through the basement, into the attic

 

 

 

 

I do not know what is real,

  and I can not touch the things I feel..

 

 

Systems fell away and appreciation departed. Personal truths, convictions, and ideals clicked off one by one like the lights of a closing restaurant. Contrast melted. Desperation faded. Certainty fell into question. Question fell into certainty. Meaning evaporated. Desire disappeared. I could see myself standing in the dark, watching my reflection on an October leaf; dry, used up, and trembling for one final moment on the branch…

 

 

 

And then, the fall….

 

 

 

My back hits the bedrock at an incredible velocity, and the sound of shattering bones explodes around me…….only the sound doesn’t come from my bones, as I may have suspected. All around shards of broken stone fall with me, as I find myself no longer inside the dark enclosed bowels of the earth, but rather in the loving gray clouds of the night sky.

 

 

 

 

I dwell on this meditation for a moment, smoking in the dark wet empty suburban landscape of 3:00 am, and get to my feet once again. After an hour of aimless forgetful strolling my legs had began failing, and the damp steps of a sleeping home became a temporary respite. Collar up, handkerchief pocketed, mittens on…and away we go, once again, eyes burning with with the beauty of the world; peering wildly around, from the spires to the sidewalk cracks, through the windows and the walls. Two dark houses for every one with a single light on. A yellow entryway with a curious chair, a well set dinner table, a table lamp next to a book shelf, some red christmas lights in a tiny apartment with old furniture. Somewhere a woman giggles in the dark. Wet leaves make a dry rattling in the trees above, soft at first, then boiling to a glorious crescendo in the brunt of a wide gust, in the silence of the evening.

 

 

Alone in the wind, and in the present… unburdened by thought, companionship, or desire– one can almost feel the unfathomable depths of a lurking collective consciousness somewhere behind the tangible veil of the senses. Underneath the sound of the rushing water deep in the sewers, a faint hint of horse hooves, construction, gun shots, and love making…