Friday, July 24, 2015
on love and presence
love is a word?
we use words to point, express, construct and de-struct.
to talk about love and its meaning or even to talk about mere feeling takes all true presence out of it.
all is lost in translation.
to write is even worse as it carries the heavy weight of thought and analysis.
is love an idea and is it a moral request how it should be, flowing, selfless, painless?
fuck.
here is my pain.
quietly mixing with joy.
love is not a soap bubble in the air.
andrew bird - hole in the ocean floor
I woke with a start
Crying bullets, beating heart
To hear all God's creatures
Roaring again
Not a cricket was creaking,
Or a floorboard was squeaking,
And all the world was snoring for show
There's a hole in the ocean floor
There's a hole in the ocean floor
Gonna stop bleeding alone
I woke with a start
Crying bullets, beating heart
To hear all God's creatures
Roaring again...
Down Like Silver - Wolves
When I die, let the wolves enjoy my bones.
When I die, let me go.
When I die, let the wolves enjoy my bones.
When I die, let me go.
When I die, you can push me out to sea.
When I die, set me free.
When I die, let the sharks come round to feed.
When I die, set me free.
Oh the world is dark, and I've looked as far I can see.
When the years have torn me apart. Let me be.
When I die, let the flames devour me.
When I die, set me free.
When I die, throw my ashes to the breeze.
When I die, scatter me.
Whole world is dark, and I've looked as far as I can see.
When the years have torn me apart.
Let me be. Let me be. Let me be. Let me be.
Daylight is waiting for you. Daylight is waiting for you.
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