keeping moving, nothing to see here

I waver over the surfaces without resistance, I flow to and fro with limited know how and I beckon for nothing as I slip and slide through the textures divine. The art of motion is as significant as the sun. There are lowly departures of miniscule devotion, to impregnate the force of living into all, a gift that every being should embrace. A tomorrow arrives too soon and a wash of regret overcomes the ones who had fallen short of their immediacies.
To mourn the lost and neglected can detract from the needs for self reliance and a decay can spread into those who’ve come to assist the hopeless. A dreaded curse of deconstruction slices through the central experience and the death decomposes the rotations of the living. Let go, you must let go, to hang on to that which has gone will drag you into the same loathsome darkness, and that you will never be able to escape.

expiration

And life is too short, as if you didn't know it. There are parts of the day when you learn knowledge of something far from spectacular, but also something definably significant, it becomes yours to hold in that space inside yourself, rattling in the vast expanse. The words come from all of us at one point in time or another, it is a ritual after some time and we deliver the words without the will to hold them back. We wait for the looks of horror and acknowledgement, for it is not a friendly message we broadcast, it is not wanted news and we wish it wasn't true. Death, finality, the end of all that had so much to offer, but the short fall into nonexistence happens without forgiveness, only memories can remain. It is our own mismanagement of time that leads to waste, and to secure destruction we face mortality in the ways we learn through life's deepening cavity of despair. This abruptness and unwanted halt is rejected by the remaining lives that find themselves in pools of sorrow, anger, and depression. We who are left standing have the pressures increase before we can release them. The welling at the eye can grant silent reprieve, but there isn't any relief of the suffering we face, the individual isn't ever replaced. It is time for our actions to move forward, because we must and it is in our resilience that we can handle the turmoil, it is with fond memories that you survive. From this vantage point we find the grains of sand take on a new light, a different texture, a reminiscent scent, and the sounds unleashed as we walk across them in the summer breeze have distinction now as we recline back introspectively recapturing you.

Nonsense

We can only see to the edge of our horizon, because we are incapable of seeing further. Through instrumentation we can expand the realm of our perception as we believe it to be with accordance to the capabilities of the instrument’s ability to convey what it has captured relative to its scope or capacity of doing so. Our bodies are our instruments of understanding and we are incapable of knowing definitively anything more than we can sense through our immediate comprehension. Most of what we understand falls somewhere between imagination and sensation, so the remaining can be construed as confusion, misunderstanding and/or ignorance entirely. To know is to believe, to believe is conceive an understanding, to understand is to imagine, imagination is intangible and ignorance is bliss. Intelligence is the breath of mystery and the sensation of the unknown, wise is the one who knows they know nothing.

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