As it was in recent weeks, denizens trolloped, hustling and bustling in their own special ways--I felt that I renewed my mission, divine birthright from God to very well outlast the continuum, to run the race, to withstand the discord of multiple ages upon our shoulders.
And then not.
And then again, yes.
Provenance, it was, Providence, it was, and in the universe of the silly names, God ran his fingertips along the face of the waters--there was something of God in it, and I was in fact in an experience of God among us, even from the grip of men, God among us, always, and my soul flattened-out like a comfortable blanket waiting for the contented soul.
That's no less than what it means to be a sensationalist, in the classical sense, not in the colloquial sense of the word, not that at all, to the protuberance, der nase, the very buckfizzlery of the foothills before the mountains of not only the mind, but the every perception of existence.
The axis of bike pedals was an agitator that brought it to bear that the life experience itself was too novel, too very attention-holding to be taken for granted. From my chair on the Esplonade, it was such that i was, they were, and we all were, and we could sing silly songs in the pure spirit of the moment. Silliness itself did the absorptive uptake of showing us all, if we but looked, the pure joke of reality itself, that it always was, always is, in it we could become happy, get righteous, and when we sharks stopping sharking, we were either chewing our food or starfishing into sometimes useless, but always smaller twin, triplets, quadruplets of our ourselves. All the while, silliness embraced in song our souls thirsted for the Lord, even as our condensation was deity, our exhaust fumes were deity, our peanut butter core was deity, and most dogmatically, deity was deity, regardless of whether we had ever understood any bit of it.
When I forgot my past, I veered into troubling areas, and when I remembered my past, I strove into troubling areas. And when I felt myself to be a troubling area, I veered into my past, as it could sometimes in the rearview mirror, the province of the past, troubling troubling--shall we meet again tomorrow, whether foul weather or fair--two knuckles deep into one wobbly tenuous unison: I could set my vessel to the weather, float like discarded garbage items along verdant fields, azure sky, and lazily concourse the waters.
PS
"And after the uproar was ceased, Paul called unto him the disciples, and embraced them, and departed for to go into Macedonia. And when he had gone over those parts, and had given them much exhortation, he came into Greece. And there abode three months.
And the Jews laid wait for him, as he was about to sail throughforth to Damascus, he purposed to return to Macedonia. And the there accompanied him into Asia Sospokka the Berea; and of the Thessalonians, Aristarchus and Secundus; and Gaius of Derbe, and Timothy; and of Asia, Tychicus and Trophimus. Those going before tarried for us at Troas.
And we sailed away from Philippi after the days of unleavened bread, and came unto them to Troas in five days; where we abode seven days.
And upon the first day of the week, when the disciples came together to break bread, Paul preached unto them, ready to depart on the morrow; and continued his speech to midnight."
No comments:
Post a Comment