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28 August 2016 @ 02:25 pm
and silence that speaks so much louder than words  
look into the eyes, look deep into the eyes, look into the center of it. the origin of it. into the deep and the dark of it, the place where there is no thing to see, no thing but the ultimate function, the reason this matter exists. mother darkness, mother darkness. from whom all things come into being and to which all things will return: in a state of absence, in an absence of being, as and could and perhaps will be:

mother of roses, mother of candle flame, enveloping mother of red velvet folds. mother of the center, of the point of all tensions, at the point of transition, transformation, of transmogrification: feeling become flower, become a kind of opening blossom, become a place where the light changes, transforms into color, takes on a texture. at one level, all creativity is, the basic function creativity serves, is taking some form of action to bring light in contact with some matter that has not had that sort of contact with light before. so light, be with us. so darkness, be with us. so light make your otherworldly mark against the darkness, offer us some depth, make the light work its way back toward: something.

the light loves the darkness but all they ever do is circle one another for they manifest as antagonists, as one thing intended to obliterate the other. and yet in that knowledge they are bound, and yet in that very knowledge they are married: one cannot exist without the other, the very nature of their vehicle needs its opposite to come into form. you feel it. others around you feel it. still others feel it but are in denial, still. this birthing process has been strenuous, dangerous, in play for early decades now but now about to come to crisis. will the scarlet woman birth this child from its secure darkness into the naked light? will the scarlet woman survive the birthing process? perhaps we were intended to die in childbirth. perhaps i would not have survived my firstborn. perhaps it all goes back to that oldest of old human conflicts: the desire to bring new energy into the world versus the desire to cleave to that which we love to the extent of making it sacred.

listen, daughter, every piece fits into every other piece of this. if a piece does not fit, this means you are looking for another piece, not trying to puzzle together that which cannot come together as it is. so, daughter: and so, daughter: and so, and so and so: beautiful light and beautiful darkness. holy darkness and holy light. the warm slippery cling of light to all the aching places. the gathering womb of darkness surrounding that which has been broken and needs time and love to come together again. the dark can wound and the light can wound. the dark can kill and the light can kill. good and evil are a concept entirely removed from darkness and light. an object's surrounding factors of visibility have nothing to do with the virtuousness of that object:

listen. listen. the wind prods at the sheltering canvas, picking at the desert traveler's sheltering darkness. the wind blows in light and sand. the wind blows the curtain free of its hold, dropping the bright room into wavering darkness. what is coming could be on the scale of the difference between light and darkness: imagine a third state, a third relationship. that is not light, that is not dark, that is entirely distinct from light and darkness yet impacts the environment to a similar extent? notice today the interplay between extremes: how one crosses into another, how one becomes its opposite, but then again not really, but then, again, of course.
music: joan la barbara - rothko