This, too, shall pass. I didn't like the phrase the first time I heard it, and time has made my loathing complete. What oracle determines the endpoint of my experience and calls it fulfilled? What paragon decides its virtue?
Get over it. As if the answer to every question lies within the circumference of what we know about ourselves, unconstrained by the experiences of others, unfettered by their understanding.
Life goes on. Yes, child, and we fill our pockets with the shells and bright moments we collect along the way, one for every face we will have forgotten when our experience is fulfilled.
Are you taking votes for the best thing you've written to date? If so, I'm voting for this one. I'm sending you a tribute via e-mail.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Craig. I must say, I rather like this one myself.
ReplyDeleteyeah...interestin'...when do we reach the summit and how fast is the slide? Who's to say we can't climb back out.
ReplyDeleteOr . . . is there really a summit at all? You know, like, first there is a mountain then there is no mountain then there is. And . . . did Donovan really see a mountain in the first place?
ReplyDeleteI don't know.
ReplyDeleteOr do I?
ReplyDeletesomeone must
ReplyDeleteknow, i mean.
Ha! That would make a fine minimalist poem, imho.
ReplyDeleteJust reading those sayings up there gave me this heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
ReplyDeleteMs. Enigma, I wonder if you'd mind indulging my ever-pesky curiosity. What sayings do you refer to, and what is the nature of stated heaviness in stomach-pit region?
ReplyDeleteOh. Those sayings. Now I see. Needed more coffee in stomach-pit region. Guh.
ReplyDelete