Novemeber Dusk

A man walks solitarily along 5th Ave. passing the Museum of Natural History; his bearing aimed at the rusted memory of this town.  The brisk fall wind ruffles his red and black lumber-jack flannel collar protruding slightly outside a grease stained olive colored canvas jacket.  Hands stuffed deep in faded, well worn light blue jeans he looks up to his left at the washed out 7 story brick apartment-esque building and continues on...

While you and I float atop my warm tannish down comforter.  Light fluffy rustic melodics meander out from the speakers cones enveloping our souls.  Outside the eye of my new college room, reds golds and more browns are fluttering waves obfuscating the museum behind.  Blink.  My hand carreses your blushed tender cheek.  Blink.  I feel your fingers run through my velvety locks.  We stare into one anothers eyes; this is the closest we will ever be, and I know it...Blink.

Descending down a narrow tree lined dirt path behind the university, dead leaves crunching underfoot he heads toward the clouds evanescently frothing out of a factory.  Nearby a bridge, it's 1970's sickly yellow paint scarred with dark cold iron veins forged by death; he stands beneath.  Staring out at the horizon, warm majestic red and golden hues fill his periphery.  A tear suddenly forms, wavering, then while convalescing in the corner of his eye, the sound of steel grinding enamel overtakes his soul.

From whence we came...

Surrounded by the societal superfluities we call progress, i close my eyes and cover my ears to this world.  I'm left with emptiness: the essence of utility.  "Nothing," unlike zero, more like a negative harmonized with it's absolute.  That is what is in all of us, that's what should be all around us.  Everything we need can be found within ourselves.  Journey there my friend.  It's too dark you say?  Then open your eyes; everything you see is you, both good and bad parts.  This world is the overarching framework whereupon the archetype of our self can be expressed.  Just like the sanctions we place on the DPRK, our environments have the potential to displace our instinctual energy.  Every action has a reaction is the adage, and if suppressed our instincts have the potentiality to manifest into a trojan horse right in front of our own ocular receptacles.

Rape, hate, murder, pillage, plunder; what are all these actions but responses to imposed constraints? Constraints placed on us through societal regimentation, by our ancestors beliefs or by our very selves.  Reverting to these states of our Raw Primitive we accept them as a conscious inevitable reality, rationalizing them with the "Law of Progress," but in actuality our consciousness has been paralyzed.  Our unrestrained, unchecked, hitherto neglected sub-concious is shouting out; shouting for us to look inward as a society, as a people.  Isn't it ironic how this warfare of life is so harmonious?  The machine of war, so precise and methodical; a myriad of independent components working together; harmonizing and coalescing beautifully at the instant of death.  This machine of death, can very easily be converted into a machine of life; the difficulty lay in the task of lifting the egoistic veil away, of cutting the pseudo-conscience spouting from external loud speakers and inserting the earbuds of the inner self of all the individual automatons.              

To be continued...