Chaos Collides with Reason to create Purpose
I saw quite young that people do not want truth. They would rather have their own version, that fits within the box of understanding.
It is one thing to gape at a movie and find repulsion in a thing- better to turn it off and look away than to continue with stomach churning and chest caving in.
What horror before me... must I wide-eyed stare and find reason?
This is also so in life.
We might shake our heads with sorrow and sigh- how terrible, how sad.
Pity, being the way we repel the truth and minimize the impact of trauma on another.
Poor you.
Oh my.
Life sucks.
Wow...eh....what a trip (056+0506)
Yet to actually submerse in locating the feel of a key at the bottom of the ocean....
The abyss might swallow you whole.
And woe to the Raven that calls:
Never more.
The idea of utter helplessness, wide-eyed terror. Where the moment of physical pain is the least of worries.
Where the eye might be punched out for looking;
Lips taped shut for speaking...
And what for thinking?
What for not knowing?
Shamed for the truth and whipped for existing.
Chaos, shadowy and stretched beyond the edges of our vision,
While chained and waiting for the exhale.
Reason being the sense of deserving what is given- although revolt will send us chasing dark alleys in the wind.
We know not what we wish for,
So down the rabbit hole we vanish, to sip tea with the madness.
What good is it?
To seek forgiveness, give forgiveness...for what?
The kingdom of Heaven is found in the graffiti on the wall-
And light penetrates and heals the scars of yesterday.
Like callouses, they thicken with each blow.
And we learn to let go.
Then what of purpose?
What yonder this way comes?
To be released yet still hold yourself captive.
Whipping and tearing at the places long forgotten.
I'm listening to Black Swan by Thom Yorke.
He's pretty much got it figured out, and nothing he sings finds resistance within me.
That is relevant to purpose,
Because the discovery of purpose must follow complete submission to chaos.
The moment of admission;
Admitting you can't possibly know what you don't know-
Along with the agreement to stop pretending you do.
In this world, I found the Breath of Reason-
The grace granted a vessel to inhabit it.
The lack of reason to have it any other way.
So be it-
But by grace go I, motherfuckers.
Amen.
Bitch is locked and loaded.
I do concede to Joe-
Chaos reigns supreme,
And the fear of that will compress you into the space you inhabit.
Reason will keep you in check,
And by God- you should just do what you ought to in order to free your own self righteous ass.
Stop trying to fix it for anybody-
Six seconds to glory and fix it your own damned self.
And find some damn things around you to be thankful for-
Because purpose will wash you clean.
Believe so hard that the fear just disappears.
There is literally no room left on the ship-
So just dive in and face the music.
So what, if we drown?
Better a lung full of water than a nail being ripped from the bed, one at a time.
Go for gusto.
So chaos collides with reason,
It beats it down, wears it thin.
Makes you barely believe in reason at all,
Until you're so pregnant with disbelief there's no room left for you in your skin.
With screaming and punching and flailing wildly in the wind,
She births purpose,
Coated in slime and smelling like murder, mixed with that new car smell I think.
Some brilliant bits of purpose, like kittens in a box.
Give them time,
They'll call you mommy.
Doesn't matter in the end either way,
And I think deep down, we know that.
Whether reason wins today, chaos tomorrow-
The best we can hope for is inspiration.
