28 September 2010

While Listening to Eno's Dark Trees

I came at the draw. At the absolute. I knew only what I heard with these new ears of mine. I walked slowly and forward. I discerned limited amounts of space, time however, fell heavy and thick on me, from above like syrupy rain. I knew nothing of control--or measure. I walked pass the solid forms and soon the darkened ambiguity of tone. I held breaths and reached ahead for fear of collision. I wasn't sure but walked all the same, I wasn't there but nowhere else, absolutely soluble, solubly inabsolute. I stepped further and narrowed my heart beat. I made quiet of my nerves and tension, I exhaled and closed my eyes--there was no difference between such darkness. Only in my mind forms did visit, tones made way, spoke and danced. Branches held most of my air, like bronchi, like grape stems, I made usual my question of ease, I made content my answer of truth, nothing was here at its best. I ran dry of heat. I drew close and motioned terribly to an exit. I guessed at words and spoke at phantoms. Taking useless turns with decisions. It came to me there. At the bed, at the end of the night, at the edge of my lips, at the only moment left. I moved forward, opening my eyes and walking them to you with something to say.

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