so.
so. i'm taking the next big leap. i'm winding up for it, casting about in all corners. like a piece of spring, or an oil-stained scrap of cloth. it's something that's been prowling around in the back alleys of myself, pawing at trinkets and hissing at the bright light, eyes shining like iridescent shocks.
the first big leap was: so, not follow all things to their conclusions: so let go the sharp atrocity of it all, in silver steel: so fuzz and blur the at the edges of categories and similitudes: so sing and burrow, and recess the sharp-honed blade that split the world in jagged two, and leaving cracks. so trust to the sleeping mind, to sort and nudge and intuit. so bring a god outside inside, a waking stand of shadow. so worship there, at the unspeakable, and so when called upon to speak of it, unable.
shadow and mist, and foolery. there is none within us which is not us, nor without. it came to me in metaphor: i have yet to reach maturity as an artist. i have not endowed brutal utility with thought. i must enjoin the nameless with the named.
so. i am assembling. the Way is dead; also the sage who rides the buffets of the Way, is dead. the ten thousand things are distinguishable, and distinguished, and distinguished, and distinguished. i will hold this infinity on the tip of my finger, and narrow down my eyes until it fills all things.
the first big leap was: so, not follow all things to their conclusions: so let go the sharp atrocity of it all, in silver steel: so fuzz and blur the at the edges of categories and similitudes: so sing and burrow, and recess the sharp-honed blade that split the world in jagged two, and leaving cracks. so trust to the sleeping mind, to sort and nudge and intuit. so bring a god outside inside, a waking stand of shadow. so worship there, at the unspeakable, and so when called upon to speak of it, unable.
shadow and mist, and foolery. there is none within us which is not us, nor without. it came to me in metaphor: i have yet to reach maturity as an artist. i have not endowed brutal utility with thought. i must enjoin the nameless with the named.
so. i am assembling. the Way is dead; also the sage who rides the buffets of the Way, is dead. the ten thousand things are distinguishable, and distinguished, and distinguished, and distinguished. i will hold this infinity on the tip of my finger, and narrow down my eyes until it fills all things.