The Difference Between You and the Stars
Today’s experience is that of a stranger, a quartet of flying by-waves of interconnection invisibly holding us together. Every move draws us closer, keeps us together, takes us closer. closer. closer… Strangles us like a whip. Like the ticking explosion of time. Strangles us like the throttle. When we don’t speak we die. The throttle of our machines, our lives, our beings- is strangled so that we can live again. So we can speak again. So we can begin again, like the stars that start, and die. Start, and die. But keep going and affecting the future long after their lives have ended in an explosion of light (life, fire, light) an explosion of fire, combusted, chortled. hey does this sound familiar? Like your ENGINE dying! Don’t accept their analogies, saying to live is to ‘start your engine’. No, I hope your engine quits. I hope your throttle is choked and gagged, primed to its peak and explodes like a beautiful star and carries you to a new way of being.
A new way of seeing. A new way of existing, generating, blossoming, lighting the future. I hope it happens before it’s too late and your engine doesn’t die before it’s out of gas. That way you’ll have a little life left to live. I’m not saying I hope your existence afterwards is comprised of what you in your present day, cliche cog-ness forms, but that all that is bad now will propell you into a beautiful everlasting future of light and life and that you aren’t ruined in the bad, the throttle, the physical self. I hope you realize I am not saying that you’ll only be beautiful when the machine changes form. You may have already choked the throttle, said your piece. You may still be speaking, lighting the path, guiding the way with your ever-glowing, exploding, going going gone star-like self. To you I say thank you; I’m glad your fire is burning, I’m glad the tables are turning, I’m glad that specifically your light is still showering in shattered bits of living, empassioned, sparkling pieces. I say thank you for revving my engine and to the rest as you shoot at the universe (birthed), may you no longer see that your love of motion is found in feeling fulfilled as a throttling cog.