Wednesday, December 7, 2016

Lost Tango

I should stop writing posts in the morning. I wake and feel tough, ready to fight the things that need fought, but the day passes beside me. Things change, soften. Seconds eat at the hull. Clouds pass and then pass again, disguised. I feel silly for having felt the other way, the tough way in the scrappy morning, after the sun drops. Knowing that changes knowing it, that's all.

I should wake up and meditate. I'll probably forget. My mind will have been cleared of the thing for it not to do. I should, though, meditate. Exercise is losing part of its spiritual component for me, is becoming more focused on the physical. It has to do with the earth being tilted by its Atlas, my portion leaning into the darkness of its arc.

Maybe if I don't have my phone with me in bed then it'll feel like meditating when I wake. I'll confront again some sense of not knowing what next. I want some of my life's emptiness back. 

I want, I want, I want.