exhaustion and impetus

you have two beasts in you   cruelty and kindness   the one who wins depends on the one you feed

theres no glory in victory and to glorify it despite this is to exult in killing

ive walked the path of kindness and seen its cruelty but have i walked the path of cruelty and seen its kindness

the sexless relationships depecrated by the milky mob but isnt this dismissal a defect of imagination and spirit

yet to have a body is

is to be anything

to enter the infinite in the finite

anxiety  as a function of the imagination  orients itself toward infinity   this its vitality instruction necessity in the age of definable things

and the mad highlight fragments in the unwritten text of our spirits with the blood of their desolation

yet even those who advocate kindness often cloak their cruelty in convention and smiles

and those who advocate cruelty?

its not as if the ways of ruthlessness and compassion are the same but that they meet on planes hidden from our view

its this darkness that could be our humility if we only had the capacity to enter the question as a gift

but to enter the question   isnt this like sacrificing ourselves to an objective that knows neither articulation nor productivity   satiety nor object

so   not an objective

and how does one enter without negating oneself on some altar that immolates the very substance of our animation

so

that path has been spoken

and perhaps lived or lived a little in little pockets and hardly seen heard touched

its role in time

you mean history

time as its become has become a time that shrinks to history

what im asking is whether progesss possible

other than you mean as an accumulation of destruction

artifacts and ideas   blood and names

isnt this what the socalled mental illnesses are saying

those voices that see a different time in their dreams

a time that has existed

in land and water and fire and air

when the whonym was little more than a wink of a shadow in a cave

and so it yet is

though it thinks otherwise

and the gap between the thinking and the isings our calamity

whonymitys encased itself in marble but the marbles cracked and the elemental spirits from which whonymity tried to hide seep through but now the whonyms trapped   unacquainted with nature  and breathes the spirits in like exhaust

one who takes on itself the calamity of the souls worthy of offering sacrifices of itself to the spirits of trees

yet it was not as so

just give up

see the birds if you can

stop

count night as if it were a desired humiliation granted from the giftlist of a race that didnt run to any end

which it might be in a world that hadnt slipped on time

on itself   an itself that mistook itself for ground

and time and god and truth and word and light and sound and love and power and knowledge and everything

a grave mistaking

an unknown grave

this planet of our undoing doing

for we havent undone the thing that does

we cant

cant we cant

a question in the nightmares

an entering most to be unsavoured

in its passage through the mouth is without flavour

cant be seen   cant be heard

yet is quite genuine

what is this thing

not of worth or desire

but of worth and desire

what is this

we descend like chickens on the ramp of a truck thats arrived at the slaughterhouse

we move like wallabees and manatees on sodden exchanges

who is there that can say its heart is clear 

and its mind so full of contradictions it becomes unfettered

where the therapist who can show me the portals

and what the professor who can give me a map

who the lover whose caress is free

how to wake in a night that never ends

i am alone

all the world will be in love with light and pay no worship to the garish moon

when we shall die

no   there shall be another way

youve seen sparks in the eternal darkness and believed

ive seen the ambivalence of the absent face behind the masks

and so hope plays its false card with its grinning teeth and gouged eyes

let us pray without prayer and walk without moving

let us move without moving

so hide away now in the grass

sink down and fall and let it be like that

whos no more   who is invisible   whos needed by no one

theres no point in the sublimity you bear