Monday, November 27, 2006

Transience

Where is home I hear you say,
So far away
So far away...

Today I found out that one of my favourite bands has long since broken up, the members moving off to other things.

There is a crack in everything God made.

No more beautiful music punctuated by Maori voices raised in song.

Oh, she will never come again.
Never, never, never, never, never!

Nothing stays the same. All we have are shifting sands and we stand confused wondering where to fix our eyes; how to pick the transient from the eternal.

We lie down somewhere and wake up somewhere else.

Thus far and no further?

Which is the dream and which the waking?

I sliced my finger today, and watched as blood poured out, wondering briefly at my lack of clotting stuff. Fibrinogen. The blood was thin. Sparkling. It didn't seem quite real. (But then it's the ketchup that's real, blood is only water mixed with poster paint)

I wonder how I would feel watching blood seep from the wrist.

Alas poor Yorick, I knew him well...

No cause, no cause...

...lives of quiet desperation.

One equal temper of heroic heart...

A counterpane of white...

Only God can make a tree!

Fodder for cannons, Hal, fodder for cannons.

Ophelia was sad. Hysteria passio, they said, but maybe she was just tired of all this transience.

Everyone leaves me.
Everyone leaves.
Everyone.


2 comments:

part-time buddha said...

The Dalia Lama says that to remember that change is the natural way of things (and it is - everything is changing all the time, it is only our memory that wants the world to be anything near transient) you should meditate on the blood flowing through your viens.

Through your viens, Jenn. Not out of them.

Jenn said...

I was in a low place at the time. It too has passed. What can I say, sometimes transience is a good thing.

But thanks.