Transitional Fossil

" The question isn't "who is going to let me"; it's "who is going to stop me".
Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead

Saturday, October 14, 2006

Between Waving and Clapping

Driving up 7th there I see the trees in their hospice. Round and round every year. The windshield reflects the wrinkled sky, an albino with a furrowed brow.

Thinking about the price of gas. Life's price rising and falling. The more I think about it the more the concept comes through in plate glass perspective. Crashing through in slow motion.

Silence carries a price. All action requires the currency of energy. Even in the stillness in reflection that freeing of the mind to other plains, its price is the release of being responsible to your reality. It creates a vacuum for other things to move to.

The price of lies is that your dance card is full. The fear keeps your feet moving in time with your mouth. Some people trip under the spot light. The potholes of conscience filled in .

But paying this price, does it give up permission and grant us freedom??

I turn into a field in time to see stone students disappear into the corn rows. A mother strokes her daughter's braids in the frozen night. This is not a place where any lynchings took place and yet violence hums beneath my shoes.

Walking to-wards the torchlight I see the circle, pronouced as it is, away from the road and sanity. Silence makes us let go. Tonight I have come to a commemortation of a future unlived. A familiar stranger asks me if there were things I wish I had done that I hadn't. I'm so certain that he's asked me that before that I say, "What did I say last time??" Having not met this man before he just stares at me. Hard like the ground, cold like the night.

The obscure beat of the moon comes down and heartbeats get louder in my ears. A man is brought forth, bound and chest bare. The circle widens. If I witnessed his punishment and demise, am I responsible. A man with a cross walks forward. He says something and strikes the bare-chested man, bringing him to his knees. Before he can get up another man rushes forward and strikes him in the heart with a sword. The kneeling man's pupils engulf the moon and he gives the earth his last kiss of betrayal.

He paid his price of admission to the world. He finally paid for what he had taken.

As we all must.


The Price, Twisted Sister
Sister Pain, Sealed With A Fist
No Skin, Golden Palominos
More 2 A Song, DMX
Gardens of Stone, Incendio
Aftermath of Temptation, Aftermath
Pistol Grip Pump, Rage Against the Machine
Lazy Sunday, Chris Parnell & Andy Samberg


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