this is the moment that you know: a new chapter

The season's change was indeed a conduit. Winter's falling only reminds me of the summer past. Life on wooden swings when all was young, with summer tongues. To be honest, I'm tired of someone else telling my story. So I've decided from here on out to tell it myself. 


I sat in that swing at Deirdre's for hours it felt like. Days, seconds, minutes, time didn't matter at all. Kairos kicks in and I have no sense of time or home or human emotion or anything. Simply swinging. Back and forth, flying to rhythms dictated by the trees. They swish with the rain and wind, like an orchestra composition from the the 20th century. Humming and whispers are usually attributes given to trees. They seem to be the quiet type. But rain and wind thrown in the mix tends to make them hyper and chaotic, in turn, stirring up the universe. 


I heard this said once "When there's nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire."
I never understood the significance before and to this day still do not, if there were any to be found. All I know is that in a few instances, I can think of moments when I would have loved to literally go up in flames. My thoughts tend to make no sense until on paper. The universe seems to make more sense when I have it down on paper. Or when I simply choose to ignore the trite world in which I live for a little while. 
I swing back and forth until daylight runs away. Eventually the wind and rain desisted. My hair and clothes are soaked and but I continued swinging, shaking from the cold. The clouds are sparse and scarce in the night sky and as I swing, I catch glimpses of the stars, twinkling in the sky like broken shards of glass. I know the world's a broken bone..  and it's moments like these when I realize everyone's perpetually broken. In a state of temporal imperfection. "Maybe the whole world is just a mass of broken," I think aloud "Just shattered and dented and crooked and lacking. Maybe, there's nothing wrong with that. Just that we play the fool and wear our broken masks to cover up the inevitable." To whom am I speaking? possibly myself. Possibly no one. It just strikes me in that moment that all that we see isn't all that is. I check the time and realize I should get home already. The grass allures me so, beckoning me come lie down and eternally sleep. Which, in retrospect, I would love nothing more to do, at this point. Really and honestly. It only reminds me of the Lion. But then again, everything seems to of late. Long gone he is, and I, I am fine. This is it. And here tonight, while the stars are blacking out, with every hope and dream I ever had in doubt. I've spent ten years trying to sing them all away. but the water keeps on falling from my tries..
This is the moment in which I come to grips with the fact that I hang on too tightly. This is the moment in which I see that people will come and go. Those I love will fade over time.
this is the moment in which I realize I've no say in the matter at all. and I've embraced robotics with the most duplicitious of intentions.