Moments & Mirrors

Truly this is the endeavor of futile vanity. Taking time to write any of this. Totally self absorbed. Yet a journey should be documented. Why else take the trip?

 

 I  have dropped from the Matrix.

 

Fought my way out.

 

Clawed till my fingernails gave way to scraps of finger flesh that are quickly cut and tore away from the bone. One can become quite inventive when finding ways to use a razor’s edge. But sometimes you must scrap the ribbons and bows and all the vain glory that comes along with one’s struggle for freedom.  I would venture, that most times you just should jump… no, dive, dive like a man imitating a dying swan falling from the cliffs of Acapulco. Dive with all your discarded depositions into the pile of disposed razor blades that have been collecting in the corner of your bathroom. At that moment, there is no theater. There is no pulling of the curtain. There are no art lovers in attendance. There is no film crew to document the dredging of your soul and the slicing of your spirit. There is only the ghost of someone you once knew,  right there, in the bathroom cabinet mirror staring at you raw and cold. Either sneering or smiling directly in your face.

 

Now, it seems the time has arrived to say good-bye. But it doesn’t matter how many shards of glass you place between the knuckles of your clenched fist. Mirrors are replaceable. I have the receipts for about twenty mirrors. This proves nothing. It only documents the struggle. But now, I’ve fashioned all those receipts into a paper cone which I’ve place on a serving plate.

 

I have kissed the paper with a dark blue tipped matched.

 

 Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

 

The Phoenix arises.

 

Outside my window, a new snow falls. By tomorrow it will be gray and darkened with the hurried pace of life. The crystals will lose their luster. To taste will poison and sicken you. But for now, today there is time to stand outside with face presented towards the falling sky and tongue out. Snowflakes like drops of LSD melt on my tongue. I open myself to the moment.

 

For there is only the moment. This is all we have. This, our inheritance from life itself…

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