SuperNova Afterglow: End Of Days

What Qualifies Us To Profess…?

There’s no perfect metaphor for what I attempt without master to share:

Life could be like revolving doors and hopping into another dimension or like a stationary merry-go-round. You can make it go or just sit on it and dream on sun-heated metal soiled from grubby feet or cleansed by rain. But know, if you ride and don't puke, you've already won. If you stand up and hold on as someone spins it faster, you can experience the rush. Having been sucked in by it's centrifugal force, you can find ground again after it slows, feel disoriented but still know you're fine. And you realize, the world moves beneath as you struggle to remain standing. Those experiences, solitary, move through you a lifetime, replayed infinitely as each opening appears and passes as we must chose to step into our portals, or eventually step away, as if mother is calling us home for supper.

I have only one question: what do you talk about over that meal...that you played or got hurt?

I may have suffered too many concussions…or plainly…blows to the head. We laugh…though, it’s serious.
There's always going to be the bad experience to help us appreciate the good. If we remove all that is bad, how would we know how good? Or, just take every experience for granted? You must be pricked and appreciate that experience, too. How else will you time travel at the end of life? Not very good without conflict-resolution.

10.28.21

from the maddening after the awakening and ing and ing and ing forever on.

"Poetic Referendum(s) On Life"