(no subject)
if you can remember what it is to make a loud noise in a quiet space, to put your hands to your face because some mornings you just don't recognize it anymore, to bleed in a stillness-- if you can hold off speaking for another moment,
in another moment, this could be all there is. you could turn around and see this was all there ever was. we're all running in the same way that we're all dying, and that would be unbearable but for the darkness and the light. the space between death and i, where every beginning comes with an end, with every end a heartache, and it's so surprising that we live, so captivating the way we love. we let loose unholy storms and dry out like deserts. burn like bushes. this is all coat-pocket religion, in a place with a sign on the door that says, 'no religion here, please' just below the one that says, 'welcome to america'. what it really means is have your religion, have your sundays and your saturdays, your churches and your temples, worship here, please. but put a finger to your lips on the way out, strip down and hang your wallet like a crucifix.
then let your knees hit the floor.
it's so surprising the way we live, it's so amazing that we love. in the darkness and the light, we're all murderers here.