The Space between the Milliseconds (Audio)

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Time drags and stretches from tic to tic.

I never knew there were so many intervals between seconds.

Life lived in milliseconds.

Each hung like a bead on a bitter pasty rope of tepid metallic taffy.

Each one sucks and drains and moves in opposition to life.

Divided, cordoned off.

Source of torment and relief reside together.

Filling even the space between the milliseconds with activity and lethargy.

It is all the same.

Why?  What?  How? Where?  When?

Some direction, something real is sought but not looked for.

This place is nowhere.

In between here and there, this and that.

No joy, no tears.

A place of unknowing, a place of undoing.

I am undone or am moving if at all towards that place.

My soul waits for something.

Some clue, some command to act or to refrain.

Neither come so I wait.

It is hardest during the nighttime.

Long shadows come but offer no comfort.

Fishing in the Weeds (Audio)

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I recognized that look.

It originates in the depths, in the dark, in the unknown.

That place where restlessness never sleeps even when engaged in conversation, prayer, love, play, work, travel, or dance.

Unconsciously seeking, scanning, assessing for that shape, that fragrance, that sound, that taste which would satiate the hunger of the heart, that which would quench the thirst of the soul.

At times ravenous, at times less demanding but never completely still, never at rest.

Restless eyes never still.

It’s not their fault.

They are not aware of the hunger much less that they search.

The object is therefore unfathomable.

Endless loop, boredom, interest, excitement, disappointment.

Becoming more and more bitter.

Tired, torn, and ragged from the search.

Seeking that which is unnamed, unseen, just desire cast upon a world of people doing the same thing.

Hooks cut and mangle soul as they are ripped and yanked out of flesh and spirit.

Like fishing blind and in the weeds.