Reaching
repast where erasure replaces remember the fading embers of my un-stoked mind
long ago realized there is nothing to find but still I keep searching and in
all this perching on dead branches amid dying trees I find that meaning is not in
the absence of leaves but in the wood being used in the construction of dining
room tables where we are enabled to learn the fable of the communal quesadilla
and its ability to bring together with a purpose. That in these days of
existentialism and physics we are still able to visit a viable alternative to
this uneven flow of space and time and whether or not I can make it rhyme life
is a series of saying, “Well this sucks.” sparsely populated by moments wherein
we can measure meaning in the convening that brings forth joy. However it is
deployed for you, like the gathering of a few for a communal quesadilla in the
simple act of a meal shared. I do not declare that all is equally defined but
unscripted moments raw and unrefined help to remind why we keep on giving to
this effort called living.
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