Friday, August 2, 2013

After Abby

It's funny how secrets seem to always want answers. I answer that I'm sure I'm not doing anything she wouldn't do, then wonder why she seems shocked if that's true.

I understand how you and I are one better than I understand how you and I are different. You will never catch me in conflict over an ideology or religion because I'm sure we are all just trying to make sense of things.

We are all no doubt universal and eternal beings. That isn't to say Theron won't fade away. I'm almost certain I will.
Like the flowers I didn't pick in previous springs. They have their 15 minutes in the sun. They have their moment of fame. They strain to bloom and sing.
They sing songs only heard by those who hear the silence. They die as peacefully as they lived without an ounce of violence. No fear and no resistance.
No expectation of resolve or persistence.
Even if they germinated for 2000 years and tasted the sun for 3 days. There is no grief when it's done. They pass into their own darkness like the fading of the sun.
3 sunrises and 3 sunsets of perfection.
They happened in the background along side birds and bees, clouds, rain, chaos, order, love, hate, loss, life, and death,
yet as vital as the oxygen we get from trees. Some things had to die so they could live. Light and darkness, sun and rain, playing their positions in the processes.

There is a fundamental beauty in the balance and harmony. Even when randomness is imbalance and is disarming me. I watch the wind in the trees, the birds on the wind, and remember though she was more than a friend, an unforgettable lover, she was a happening, a wave, that wasn't consciously caused by me, that I can never be separate from. I know though that life is oddly like a band without a drummer, after Abby.