The day feels as limber as a body carved in stone, and yet time remains elastic. A Möbius strip to which I cling, never certain if I’m inside or outside or whether, in fact, I’m located anywhere upon the twist of fate at all.
Dylan sang it simple, but simplicity in his mind means traveling on a roller coaster through an arcade of hallucinatory smoke and funhouse mirrors blindfolded and bound by myriad inexpressible desires. “A little confused”? That statement is not only under, but buried so deep beneath layers of denial that the concept of clarity no longer exists.
We are all born too late, really, searching over and over for the lost eternal beginning, the still center, not the unmappable edge we cleave to, against all reason, with the desperation of an addict looking for a permanent fix.
So which way does this finite world turn? Does the Universe have its own compass, or is it, too, like humanity, lost in space?
plus, minus—neither
more nor less than tomorrow,
yesterday, today
The NaPoWriMo prompt for today is to write a poem in which you describe something with a hard-boiled simile. I’ve also used Muri’s Scavenger Hunt words, limber and elastic.
K. 
Wonderful artwork as always. The mental meanderings with no answers is freeing in a way, opening a vista of unencumbered being. Hope you enjoy your Sunday.
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Thanks Jade. Those answers are elusive, but the search continues.
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You’re welcome, K.
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Kerfe, that third paragraph speaks to me very deeply. Thanks for sharing this reflection.
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Thanks David. I’m glad it speaks to you–that’s what makes writing worthwhile.
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This embodies the confusing nature of soul-searching, especially when extrapolated to the universe as a whole!
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Clarity is hard to find. Thanks Ingrid.
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Thought provoking, Kerfe. A splendid post.
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Thanks Robbie.
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“…the concept of clarity no longer exists” so describes the chaos of thought and emotion that is balled in the soul of mankind. We are a tangled creation suspended in a self woven cocoon. Even when we manage to break free we are changed and fail to recognize the new creation. In that instant it is only the very few who don’t start the process of reweaving the prison… Loved this exploration of life and everything!
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Reweaving the prison…that’s so true Muri. Over and over again.
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I love this, K.: “We are all born too late, really, searching over and over for the lost eternal beginning, the still center, not the unmappable edge we cleave to, against all reason, with the desperation of an addict looking for a permanent fix.” There’s palpable truth there, I can feel it.💜🍃
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Thanks Romana. There’s much inspiration in Dylan’s words.
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Beautiful. My favourite version of this song is by Joan Baez where she does his impersonation in one stanza. 😀
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Thanks Manja. I like that version too. Joan has a way with Bob’s songs.
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