Invisibility is a relative thing. in anticlimatic

Remember that storm of future uncertainty that loomed over our later teen years and early adulthood? Seems like I’ve reclaimed it, I wonder if anyone else has. Noticed the pattern of feelings and impulses tonight during my meditative routine evening sojourn through the dusk soaked neighborhood. Bits of memory long undisturbed shaking off the patina of irrelevance. Dreams of twisted souls locked in dark attics, wrecked landscapes, hungry waves at sea- and always that bending knot of a storm looming above. And here I am again, and here we are- the we of course being just me, but one always needs someone to talk to, wouldn’t you say? Why yes, yes I would, thank you for asking. Don’t mention it. Civility may yet out last civilization, or is that an oxymoron? Who is to say. Nothing is certain any longer. The dull blissful languor of decisions made and futures claimed and losses accepted and uncertainty conquered. We are relieved of it. The wheel of time is cracked, and we are fallen behind it. Left to gather dust and gaze up at the broken storm of it. Or so it feels, and reasonably so, this dark hour of the evening. It inclines one to beg the question- have we come full circle? I mean, have I. How does one measure the value of their own life? Do metrics of failure and regret from the model? Do metrics of accomplishment and pride? Some lament they never got to see Paris. Never got to make that memory of the experience. How many experiences have I forgotten? Did I remember to write them down? I think I have, though I’m loathe to look back. Alas that is now the only direction with which we can see, and there it is in all its neglected glory. Who was that person I used to be? Am I still?

Last updated April 04, 2020