this


this

is no small thing

and not a thing

to be taken lightly

 

this

is that thing

that moment

when the bedrock

of your understanding

of everything

 

rocks

and

settles

into a new foundation

that fits

 

so well

into the structure of your being

 

so well

that it feels

like the one and only foundation

that has supported

 

all of you

all along

 

so you

almost

can’t detect

the signs of renovation

the tells of replacement

 

the new becomes you

you take on a new view

and the way you view

everything

 

now

 

with your reconstructed lens

feels obvious

apparent

like this lens

was always there

 

in this new here

waiting

for you

to arrive

to see

through it

and your arrival—

 

inevitable.

 

this new view

that becomes you

so well

dwelled

in you

in patient hibernation

in expectation of you

and your discovery

 

and upon arrival

you suspect

it knew

that you’d find it

both

fresh and familiar

like a crash-landed homecoming

 

but upon arrival

you understand

you couldn’t have looked for it

you shouldn’t have anticipated it

 

this thing

that is not light

it doesn’t gravitate

in a predictable orbit

it doesn’t hold court

in scheduled venues

it destroys

at random

it illuminates

at its own aimless will

 

so when it arrives

or when you arrive at it—

 

who knows in which direction

the arrow of inevitability points—

 

it’s only natural

to want

to hold it

to keep it

to savor it

to protect it

to let it

become you

 

but of course

it can’t be

held kept savored or protected

 

it is:

 

like droplets passing through desperate fingers

like the morphing clouds in a windy sky

like every other tired metaphor

of the ephemeral

 

the thing

comes

then

goes

 

and it leaves you

both

wrecked and found

like a post-war lovers’ reunion

 

if you’re very lucky

when the bedrock rocks

and the new view becomes you

you’ll have the wherewithal

to consciously commit

the thing

to your inept memory

 

perhaps

you’ll take some inadequate notes

in the pathetic hope

that in some future time

a futile attempt

to hold keep savor and protect

the thing

may serve as a charon

to carry you

 

back to this big bang demarcation

this before and after event horizon

this

thing

that makes you

you

 

but that charon

then

conjured up with a misguided invocation

now

misdirects your travels on each trip

 

carrying you

not back

but to

a hollowed out shell of the thing

a ruined remnant

an empty grenade

 

of the moment of change

that was also the moment of wonder

that was also the moment of remembrance

your moment of truth

 

the power

of the truth

burns out

always

with breathtaking

and exasperating celerity

 

the impact

that once felt

that one-and-only-time felt

like the collision of every momentous thing

ever

 

now

feels

like

 

the soft thump of an encouraging pat on the back

the high pitched whine of your voice going “oh yeah…”

the trivial “ah ha” moment that you outgrew a long time ago

 

a small thing

 

now

 

and now

 

this thing

that i’m writing

this here

right now

 

is a misguided futile pathetic inadequate and inept thing

constructed to hold keep savor and protect

 

something

 

that i want

to become me

 

but as i word this

as i type this

edit this

 

i feel

the ocean

that i held in my hands

for a moment

slipping

falling

back

into the waves

of the ever-changing truth

crashing

around my ankles

sinking

in the quick-sandy state

of the ever-resurrecting

foundation of

me

 

and i’m sure

that by the end

of some short time

i’ll arrive

at another

thing

it’ll meet me

and then

i’ll know

more

i’ll become

more

of me

with it

 

and then

we’ll settle

into each other

 

until the next inevitable genesis

finds me

with my wide open eyes

in naked awakenedness

full of baseless

enlightenment

 

until the next rapturous demolition day

that i’ll welcome like a grand opening

 

and so on

 

and so

 

here we are

 

this

is what we are

 

this

death again

and born again

 

this

destruction

and creation

 

this

fragmentation

and assembly

 

this

over

and over

 

this

 

this is it


musings inspired by The Feeling I Felt After Reading Dark Matter by Blake Crouch