[ ] [ ]

Philosophy

And the landscape spoke of harsh forbidding other-worlds and the rocks rose from the dirt sun packed like so many dried emptied veins on the parched horizon so far away as to be impossible to reach save with the mind's eye yet so near as to allow one to pick up its sands and watch it slide through one's fingers lifelessly spilling one again with its origin without a single trace of having been taken from its infernal bed-and it grew from this-desperate drifters and travelers from other worlds erected monuments to their idols and gods and to themselves after which all idols and gods bore resemblance then kicking up the dust into a strangling murderous cloud covering all the eye could see and they moved the dead still soil to and fro like ants humping the dirt until it resembled the place of their origin and they created laws and religion and prejudices and set limits on their hearts and minds and their beliefs all to be passed on to others who followed and it grew and it prospered while the bones from the dead reeked and rose in a great heap underground where they lay along with their conscience and dreams and above ground the sky was yellowing blue then red and below was ashen grey still dead now burdened with more death and on the streets blood flowed in neat little channels while no one noticed and the cannibals set to eating each other alive in the name of god and prosperity and future generations and the holy ghost rolled over and a city grew so as to obscure the landscape and no one knew why or what for yet one after the other they sucked the the sweet nectar from the trees until they were but dried grotesquely bent twigs dying above ground reaching for the darkening sky like so many starving straining fingers rising from cracked swamp beds and the winds blew and blew and happiness is this is happiness is this life is this happiness is this life is this happiness is this life and so on and we suck from it all that it allows us to suck gently at first like a warm grateful child at its mother's soft yielding teat and on and on until we resemble more starving insects sucking at the marrow of a carcass until there is nothing left but cold tissue abandoned to decompose and turn into the dust from which the universe was born to be blown by indecisive winds across the horizon just like we are all blown from one end of the rainbow to the other never finding that for which we search not knowing why or what or exactly where just knowing that being moved like this is infinitely better than staying still and smelling the pestilence our deeds have wrought so we move on ceaselessly carried by the winds from place to place always searching moving looking to outrun ourselves but like locusts we damage all we see and touch and we do not settle as much as we overrun and we do not exist rather we impose ourselves on other´s worlds and after our deeds have been done and blood is again flowing in the streets in neat little rivulets and the skies are a yellowing blue then red and the bones have piled up and the new world looks just like the old and where we are tastes again and smells again like the land from whence we fled and were blown from by the restless winds and all is blighted we build our houses of worship and pray to he in whose name we have done this and whom we have created in our own image and we cry forgive me

You don't have the Flash Player installed on your browser.
Please use the button below to get the current Flash-Player to view the Flash-Site.