Dancing

(June 29, 2003)

Dance you fucker dance you fucker don't you dare don't you dare don't you flan in the face
Take it with the love its given take it with a pinch of salt take it to the taxman
Let me back let me back I promise to be good don't look in the mirror at the face you don't recognize

Sometimes as I watch I see, and when I see I know; it never lasts, it never lasts, but it winds through me like a ribbon of light as it goes. I drive and I listen, and the empty 2:15 AM roads spiral out in all directions like dead dragons lying in wait for the knights to repent and give back their hearts, whispering stories to my tires that drift through my hair from the air conditioning vents. I see the future and the past and the present packed together into a single entity so large that none could traverse it end to end, yet see from above, looking through everything like a god grown weary of creating. The forge is cooled; I am insignificant and it was never my hammer swinging, but perhaps I know the smith: voices ring out to tell their stories, their tongues found only in the folds of my grey matter or perhaps the grey expanse of my soul. I watch and I see and I know, observing the web of interaction like the spider whose feet never stick, seeing that there is an importance yet to be known, a significance yet to come to light.

You will see and you will know, too. Reading this, you are connected to me, however tangentially, and our dragons are going to breathe soon. There is so much life here, so many stars and so much time, and we will find it all; you need only wait, as I have already seen.