And I Will Be Here in the Morning, And I Will Be Hear for All After.
If you close your eyes you can hear it.
That rumble, deep in the jaw, almost below the threshold of hearing.
That hum. Static. The sound of a radio tuned to a dead station. Grey light. Clear water. Baseline. Like gravity, ignored. A tremor you have trained yourself to forget.
The first thing you ever hear. The last thing you ever hear.
You know it. You cannot be ignorant of it. Down in the base of you, at your core, and when questioned one does not even know where to begin.
The protean knowledge. The only knowledge. The last, first, and only known thing.
All else is a mirage. The light on the eye. The whisper of the air on your skin. The sparkle of light. The taste of your own mouth. All of it. Illusion. The symphony of synapse and the rhythm of thought. Mediated. Meditated. Taught and learned.
The hum of the blood in your veins. The only thing. The first thing. The last thing.
Everything.
That rumble, deep in the jaw, almost below the threshold of hearing.
That hum. Static. The sound of a radio tuned to a dead station. Grey light. Clear water. Baseline. Like gravity, ignored. A tremor you have trained yourself to forget.
The first thing you ever hear. The last thing you ever hear.
You know it. You cannot be ignorant of it. Down in the base of you, at your core, and when questioned one does not even know where to begin.
The protean knowledge. The only knowledge. The last, first, and only known thing.
All else is a mirage. The light on the eye. The whisper of the air on your skin. The sparkle of light. The taste of your own mouth. All of it. Illusion. The symphony of synapse and the rhythm of thought. Mediated. Meditated. Taught and learned.
The hum of the blood in your veins. The only thing. The first thing. The last thing.
Everything.