Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Legitimize Intimacy

I only see panoramas where there are people. Fantastic grand canyons, the black forest and mesmerizing sea escapes are an abundant emptiness. I don’t have the ability to see beyond humanity. I need you all!

Aware that there is no self I need you more. Climbing into the obscurity of being without personal identification is an impossibility. Having no self the “I” is born to make a self of another portion of the universal. The universal is always alone. Always alone until it divides itself so that all of its fragments become loners too; estranged the universe attempts to reunite with itself as it expands to be more. Fattening layer after layer of detaching flesh so as to keep within warm grasp universal perdition.

Each day that passes my fatal reunification increases in proportion; vanishing apparition of self, I am less the more joined I am to all those beings that are not me; at zero self you are indistinguishable from the universe. Zero self and you don’t know where the universe is, zero self and you don’t know where you are, at zero self you can not bother the universe, the universe erases your division and forgets to ask your whereabouts.

Perishing within extinguishable immensity the universal fumigates my soul. The universal is an atheist, there are cold nights for you and I but not for the universe. The universe screams: separation freezes. The universe is not expanding into space, it is expanding within. Space is within, stomach cramps are reflections of universal augmenting contractions.

Living is difficult, dying is easy. To stay here with you I am willing to endure much pain and labor. Love me or perish, warning, there is no self. The encumbrance of life is that you have to want to be here with me, you are not alone, remember my dear Hemorrhoid there is no you.

Nothing equals the beauty of a new born child. Flowering youth is precious and endearing with its libertine temerity; as body cakes from the perils of surviving existence, fossilized recalcitrant ideas, wrinkled medals decor from forfeited struggle, glory remembering futile victories, nothing is uglier, uglier than the unequaled fault of death.

We bury our dead together. Practice. To me a cemetery without human corpses is emptiness.

My desires need you.

RC