Tuesday, May 15, 2012
They come, hurtle towards you far faster than you could run even if you had a time to: the things that you cannot avoid, cannot escape or hide from, cannot shove aside to be dealt with another time.
Perhaps you would like to dive off of your stone throne, king, into those wild, dark waves. Perhaps you would like to hold your breath and swim and swim until you grow dizzy from lack of oxygen and too much buoyancy. Perhaps you would like to shut your eyes and your mind, to distract yourself: the contents of that golden cup call. Perhaps you would like to turn away, to put yourself to sleep, where you could dream of ships and sails, impossible illusions, anything but the concrete, in front of you here and now.
But you cannot do any of those things, not for long, not this time. They sail through the air towards you - events, changes, that impossible to resist momentum, swiftness. You see them, know what you must do, how quickly and surely you must act even if you wish that you could wait, procrastinate, ponder a bit longer, dream distractions. You see them and you know how you must prepare, the circle you have to complete, bit by bit.
They will arrive soon, slam into the ground around you whether you wish them to or not. You must be there, fully there, to greet them. It is far too late for anything else.