The incalculable machine keeps on,
incessant and inevitable,
and thoughts stray from me like the sands,
and everything goes away
because this is their nature:
they are one with the machine, and follow
the courses of the seconds passing,
while I am somehow outside,
or inside, where I can’t get out,
somehow meandering outside the cycle
of life and death. The feeling
that I am a stranger is not new,
and in fact, it surprises me whenever
there is some semblance of me belonging;
just that now, I have this sense
that I want just to settle into the framework
of this world, where I am to be
these many years to come;
this noble savage, or not so noble:
let us dress him in finery and teach him couth,
and see if he can ascertain
the accoutrements of society.
It is a good experiment. For my part,
I think I must forget that the machine
even exists if I am to be a part of the niceties.
But I know in the back of my mind
the barbarian in me will let out
a healthy snort at everything,
and secretly, I will wonder
at the silver gears that underpin creation,
whose architecture inspires in me
the wildness to dance around the fire.
Reflection
10:23am friday, 9th december
The Gods have lost.The book is closed.
Strawberry
10:04pm saturday, 10th december
Is a person civilized or a barbarian if they are sick with schizophrenia so all they do is sit and stare? I sit and stare and it hurt no one. It's a form of control over the illness. Wildness? Architecture? Energy and logical form go lacking with some forms of schizophrenia. In the social machine I'm nearly like one dead. It don't care about me and I can't tolorate it. Well, it sure is healthy that you can conceive of many years to come.
reflection
10:42am sunday, 11th december
You are very wise Strawberry.Wise and smart is ying and yang. kiss kiss
Reflection