untitled


I'm unsettled. Repulsion against those around

me, even my friends. Reminded of the solitary

nature of life. What is given can as easily be

taken away. In fact, much easier taken away

than given: like life, nine months to cultivate

and seconds to destroy, like love, which

takes two to spark and only one to collapse.

And how can two people ever be aligned on

some frequency for more than a few brief

moments? Perhaps hence that Brief Candle

life; Maybe that's why we die, for these

truths to elude the luckier instances of our

human race. A common sentiment is that by

limiting life, death gives meaning to time

(which is the soft unit of life). Perhaps also

death limits life, because life in any case

would have little left to offer beyond its

anxious boundaries. Death is life's device in

eroticizing itself past its natural feebleness,

a wizard of Oz; a creative seed to impregnate

a hopeless mind, to dream beyond the defeat

that comes, and to go peacefully, as they say,

in your sleep, in your dreams.

~

words: Indrayudh Shome, India/NewYork (contact)
image: Dorothee Lang, Germany (virtual notes)