July 21, 2012

Head and tail. That's what makes them. The epitome of non-complexity. The exact opposite of what our lives are. What we have made them to be. Tadpoles. The beginning, is what they symbolize.
Our beginnings. Simple, unmoved by the shark that is life. Head and tail. The beginning and the end. That simple. Yet it never is. The head calls for eyes. Eyes want to explore. See. Visions need to be processed.

Interpreted.

Thus starts the decline of the simple. Into questions, rationalizations, explanations. Wanting to know more. Wanting that more explained, examined. Always more. The need to touch, to feel. Because the eyes cannot convince the head. It need the fingers to touch.

The tail always being chased. By ourselves. By others that are within ourselves. The demons are that us, that we have made into sharks we always swim away from. Chasing our tails, scared of ourselves.

Like fish out of water.

We gasp for air, for a bubble that will burst to release that precious oxygen.  The head will turn, the tail will flip. A communication. You are running away from me, screams the tail. I am saving you, shouts the head. I am you, interjects the shark.

The sweetness. That comes from knowing that you can always outlast, outswim the shark. Like a pot full of honey. Your fingers dipping. Feeling the warmth, the slickness, the smoothness. That warmth. Envelopes you, consumes you. The texture. Like a tadpole. Swimming round and round. Looking for that spot. That with a bit a roughness, yet smooth. Like velvet. Dark velvet. With secrets. That place that is home, but so elusive. That place that is your heaven, and your hell. Because the existence of one creates the other. The darkness and the light. The head warns the finger. But the finger knows. It's been to the gutter. The filth of it is the reason it appreciates the honey.

Darkness has not given way to the light. Darkness has mixed with light and their union is the sweetness.  The tail flips. Shark is chasing. Again. Head and tail. Head no longer warning. The fingers have convinced. The warmth is real. The shark is chasing. Tail stops. Time slows. Everything in motion. All at once.  The realization that the shark might be real. The shock, the the pleasure, the awakening.

Almost robotic.

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