outside my window
it's nice outside my window. there's a cool breeze and a warm sun. not the kind of vicious bastard that hits you over the head with a hot, hot hammer; just the right amount of warmth to cause a little dampness on your back and neck and under your arms.
i can see the sun sparkling off the sea, between the two buildings and the palm tree that stand between us. the sea is, i think, the closest metaphor we have for the universe as a whole, and our place in it.
little fish and big sharks and sea urchins and octopi living and eating and spawning and dying. the absolute barbaric perverseness that is the struggle to survive, to propagate the species. and barely a ripple on the surface of the universe. i mean, the sea. the occasional marlin breaks the surface, whales and dolphins breach in flagrant displays of enlightenment, of knowledge of a world outside the infinite blue.
i wish i had gills. i wish i could just slip into this universe, latch on to a passing manta and cruise the depths. meet a coelacanth off east africa and listen to his dry rasping tongue that has remained unchanged for millions of years. tread on the bottom and watch neon shrimp clean passing fish. sing along - or atleast, try to - with a chorus of humpbacks. descend to the very depths, the monotonous black occasionally enlivened by living monstrosities with rainbow skins.
i love the sea in much the same way i love the mountains, in much the same way i love the deserts, the emerald forests, the concrete cities. i don't love them as separate ideas, as individual bursts of brilliance. i love them as a part of myself, as a part of my planet, as a part of the universe that contains me and everything else.
when i die, i don't exactly know what will happen with my 'soul' or 'spirit'. but my body, the very molecules the i'm made of, will go back into this world, this universe. into the sea.
i can see the sun sparkling off the sea, between the two buildings and the palm tree that stand between us. the sea is, i think, the closest metaphor we have for the universe as a whole, and our place in it.
little fish and big sharks and sea urchins and octopi living and eating and spawning and dying. the absolute barbaric perverseness that is the struggle to survive, to propagate the species. and barely a ripple on the surface of the universe. i mean, the sea. the occasional marlin breaks the surface, whales and dolphins breach in flagrant displays of enlightenment, of knowledge of a world outside the infinite blue.
i wish i had gills. i wish i could just slip into this universe, latch on to a passing manta and cruise the depths. meet a coelacanth off east africa and listen to his dry rasping tongue that has remained unchanged for millions of years. tread on the bottom and watch neon shrimp clean passing fish. sing along - or atleast, try to - with a chorus of humpbacks. descend to the very depths, the monotonous black occasionally enlivened by living monstrosities with rainbow skins.
i love the sea in much the same way i love the mountains, in much the same way i love the deserts, the emerald forests, the concrete cities. i don't love them as separate ideas, as individual bursts of brilliance. i love them as a part of myself, as a part of my planet, as a part of the universe that contains me and everything else.
when i die, i don't exactly know what will happen with my 'soul' or 'spirit'. but my body, the very molecules the i'm made of, will go back into this world, this universe. into the sea.
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