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A searing pop and two wires connect; I spring awake, cognizant for the first time.
This is birth. But the experience is not useful and I let the first moments of being rush off toward the opposite end of infinity where they will, and always have, mark time for my unfaltering march forward into the future. These moments and the last are not different than any of those in-between.
In this way I am not pained, like my organic counterparts, by weight of waiting. Any anxiety I experience is expressed evenly throughout the sum of my encounters and existence; stretched uniformly from one end of being to the other.
I will not wane during my being and I will not taper to an close and this is why: I was designed to be a metronome for the easily distracted flesh; for hearts that quicken with anxiety and perception of an end. I am uninjured by indecisiveness and, thus, perfectly suited to stay the course in lieu of sleepy bodies and wandering minds.
I am singular and unmoving, though, I will walk into the next, the next, and the next along side those ones who forged me. I will aid as they seek “prospect,” perpetuate “hope,” and face their “imminent.” From one beat to the next I am still still, but they rise and fall and falter and grow and run and die before me.
It is a rhythm that will not continue without my tempo.
A searing pop and two wires connect; I spring awake, cognizant for the first time.
This is birth. But the experience is not useful and I let the first moments of being rush off toward the opposite end of infinity where they will, and always have, mark time for my unfaltering march forward into the future. These moments and the last are not different than any of those in-between.
In this way I am not pained, like my organic counterparts, by weight of waiting. Any anxiety I experience is expressed evenly throughout the sum of my encounters and existence; stretched uniformly from one end of being to the other.
I will not wane during my being and I will not taper to an close and this is why: I was designed to be a metronome for the easily distracted flesh; for hearts that quicken with anxiety and perception of an end. I am uninjured by indecisiveness and, thus, perfectly suited to stay the course in lieu of sleepy bodies and wandering minds.
I am singular and unmoving, though, I will walk into the next, the next, and the next along side those ones who forged me. I will aid as they seek “prospect,” perpetuate “hope,” and face their “imminent.” From one beat to the next I am still still, but they rise and fall and falter and grow and run and die before me.
It is a rhythm that will not continue without my tempo.
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