We aren't ships passing in the night. We are ships with crews that speak the same language, that sing the same songs, that worship the same gods, but do not know each other. Occasionally drafting off one another in the silence of the ocean, curious but confused by our similarities. Our oarsmen sing songs and shout out in joy; Our captains are silent and consider their course of action.
Not the sum of bits. More of a determinant. An isolated bit of knowledge that requires an understanding of its component parts. That is how we are that that is why. We feed too much into determination to wholly discount it. This has been ruled out.
Want something more than this concrete lanscape of savannah and woodland. Want something more than the self, than the now, than the inconsequential ramblings of noon-day-intoxication. This generation can't go back, and they know it. We ride the flotsam out onto the shores. We secretly hope we can rebuild, after all the old ones die off. After their last grasp.
12 years ago
