The great stretch of despair that makes this world requires a place to sit – to let it all seep in – water in throat – knife in blood – death in life. A place where a soul sits – that kind of place – that kind of sitting. The shivering bloodless legs of the aging civilization demand an immediate statis. The storm helps. The hunger helps. Despair always helps. Helps to sit down and take a close hard look and do nothing. People still walking is a disappointment.
The thousand year old darkness is still as dark as it was then. It still is fearsome and confusing as it was then. The sound of the rain still produces images it should not. The weather still changes for worse. We are still scared. Evolution has done nothing to our fears. Fear thus helps. Helps to sit down and understand and do nothing. People still standing is a disappointment.
You make meaning of words because people before you have done the same. You keep a constant vigil lest a word turn rogue. When you sleep the world wakes you up with a thud. Those are the sounds that could not be words and they keep falling like raindrops and producing images they should not. Most of the writing that goes on is not on paper and cannot be read. Words help. World helps. Helps to sit down and listen and do nothing. People still writing is a disappointment.