Tuesday, July 30, 2002

What are beautiful words?
What do they say that tear at my being?

My brother once told me that a truely beautiful sunset is the one that is felt in that instant between that which is seen and that which is worded.
Then what is beautiful on that page, if not those black scrawls that scream at my brains?
Nah, I think my brains are the ones doing the screaming.

The process works like this.
Eyes register...Something makes you stop in silence and take a deep breath..
And then comes along that shithead mind (not mixing metaphors here, are we?) and says...
'long road, mist overhead, row of mountains, and thou...of course, it's beautiful'....there goes the moment ...

The only beauty I see in those words is the sheer agony of my mind on the edge..Because it is told something that it cannot see..
It is made to wait on the edge of the gap between the word and the experience. And the gaping abyss holds the promise of beauty and beyond.
But that's all there is.Only the promise.
And I wait. Read it over. And over. And over. Till it pinches and hurts.

Till the gap expands into the certainty of never knowing. And the acceptance of loss...
Loss is powerful and so is absence.
The power of 'not being there' is always much more potent than all the acts of presence.

An accident happened last Saturday. People died.
People who had taught me, who had lived with me at some point of time in life, people in my head.
And it hit. I haven't seen them in years. And now I will not.
Somebody said it's destiny. Vague destiny this. Act of permutation and random probability. Does not, DOES NOT, exist in the realm of reason. Stupid destiny this.
I did not brood, I didn't cry, not much at least. But that sense of impending doom refuses to go away.

Beauty exists in loss, yeah right for the onlooker it does.