I tried to get along, longer then I should have. It sucked me in, the grinding gears, the rattling parts, the thumping blows that shake you; into the depths of a purposeful drudgery. A fixed dynamic with fiery collisions and stochastic movement that dances intermittently. Hissing, deep roaring thunder, high pitched deafening explosions from metal-to-metal inevitability which escape consciousness like crying in a damp cellar. There is no horizon and an eternal free fall refuses the comfort of up and down. The promise of freedom exempts one from the total confinement of the doctrine. I can’t see, stopped hearing and am entirely hopelessly lost.
At a twinkling of importance a thought occurred unexpectedly, which I perceived to be a lost ability. How probable is the venture of successful abandonment, the lone survival from the sinking ship; swimming without knowing where the sky starts or ends, reaching the hidden shore. Can I leave this behind. Can I free myself from the shackles that define me. Is it possible to live outside this domain of existence. But how can one exist in a void that contains precisely nothing. That can worry me later, freedom above all, is it not?
The promise of freedom.
The impetus of departure amplifies, as the appearance of the racketing monstrosity becomes sharper, smoke starts to clear. Attention to specific details reigns, shifting rapidly, flowing in an efficient stream of instants to understanding. I adopt the elements, live by the rules and this sickening waltz becomes my own. Shattering thud, thud, thuds and the deep howling became the song of my existence, whirling, shaking, coating the stride to liberation. I allowed for the venomous corruption to enter my heart and alter me, having faith in its temporal character. The thought of escape liberates me from the system’s confinement, I embraced it fully to understand where the breath enters and leaves.
I’m blinded by motion, I’m moving but can’t control it. I try to grasp the bits of understanding, and hold tight, emptying my fuel violently. I’m moving but I can’t control it, the inertia of this disease to great for me to muster. I’m drowning in a pond where I can stand, and standing up is inevitably followed by losing my balance once again. I’m committed to breathing although my respiration is unstable, all I do is exhale. I’m committed to breathing, but all I do is lose my gist.
The promise of freedom exempts one from the total confinement of the doctrine.
The noise is overwhelming, the sight is obstructed by rapid motion. Pistons come straight at me, the gears move me towards it, collision is imminent, unavoidable. Stuck in this fixed position, uncomfortable, wicked, I became one that is not me. But who am I? I had to find people, real people, to help me stand up and move towards the tree of life.
The Realm of Indifference 