We were a constellation, each complicated by the gravity of the others and held in place by it. Individual desires, fears––whatever these might have been, if they ever had been––were opaque to us, except when they involved another.
We had only our rituals, and by these choreographies each could lose it all again and find a state adjacent to what we thought people of another time might have called holy, might have called grace, or something like a visitation.
Having arrived long after the date for believing that anyone might come to save us, long after whatever might have been offered at another time had surely been squandered beyond repair or recognition, we knew only to hold in this suspended state, for as long as possible, lighting the utter doom.
There was laughter in that space, never expected. And song. Yes, that too.
Thank god for laughter and song.
They arrive
when most needed, birthed
of necessity
So do we thank god for chaos
and strife? How to know.
An engineer fixes
but should she try?
Or what is love?
Ryn, I love that I am finding your song here.
I simply love this one. Thank you for the sweet smile this morning.
Amaya, thank YOU for this. : )
“And song. Yes, that too.”
This is the hook. I cannot say why, but this is the bit that seals the deal for me.
Thank you, for telling me this, Michael. I was wondering about the little gut tug that put that one in. : )
You’re very welcome. My pleasure.
The phoenix rises, the gods laugh. And we all sing a song in disharmony. I love it!