The Fullness of Forever

I wrote this on a plane mixed in with doodles and drawings and the guy next to me looking over and being confused. 

Man is an animal suspended in webs of significance he himself has spun.

– Clifford Geertz

And after everything we looked for whatever was left and found nothing. So we looked at each other and disentangled our identities from our histories and reunited reality like the kids dreamed of in tree houses when red wagons crashed down driveways. And he threw his hair behind his shoulder and forgot where the conversation began and I reminded him that he’d never want to know and we let everything stop or almost stop because if it really stopped the world would be invisible and we’d all be subatomic particles or whatever is less that that so we let the world keep going but slowly because I like the delusion of Me In Motion.

And then we decided to put the sun back in the sky and the moon in the stars because obviously the stars didn’t go anywhere. And around my fingers I spun just enough time to live well and whatever was left I gave to him. And the scraps of edges and fringes and pulls of thread I snipped off neatly and gave to the Spiders and they were happy to be back. But we of course didn’t call them Spiders because words were gone too so Spiders weren’t named until someone got scared of them later but we promised we wouldn’t talk about that. And to the spiders we gave wild grass of the gentlest sort to hang their threads of time. And then we made dew drops, pulling light out of the air with spaghetti strainers and powdering it on every thread on every strand of wild glass. And he cracked his knuckles in the sound of bells and pushed his hair out of his face. And I wanted to kiss him but I had work to do and this world wasn’t going to start with “So I met this guy…” because any life decision after that loses credibility. No, I am alpha and omega, revolving my own nucleus. I am electric.

And so I turned up the orange in the sun and sunk it in the sky and made rivers run crashing down mountains. Faster and faster I ran them and grander and I carved canyons and cliffs and pebbles and boulders and marshes and prairies and spun the world out like a lettuce spinner until everything was clean and fresh and beautifully broken. And after all had been spun out, I put the rivers in the clouds and sent clouds on their way.

And he wrote sin because how does good exist without sin? Right?

And I froze some places into whitening and burned some places into yellowing just as I remembered from the magazines on our coffee tables. And I filled the ocean with fresh water and loved everything.

And he wrote pain because how does health exist without pain? Right?

And I looked at my oceans and remembered the whales so I asked the spiders to weave me a whale and they did and it had fins and everything so I put it in an ocean. I knew it was lonely because it was born after pain so I asked the spiders to build it a lover. But the lover was made after sin so the lover was jealous and the lover was angry and the lover attacked and the spiders took out its teeth and forced it to smile.

And he wrote sadness, because without sadness, how can one know joy?

And the whales understood and the whales tried to give back their threads of time and slowly they unraveled.

And he brushed his hair and looked down on the world and he smiled and I wanted no more to kiss him. And I stole his diary and crossed out Sin and wrote Adversity and crossed out Pain and wrote Grit and crossed out Sadness and wrote ignorance. And then I thought of Hallmark greeting cards and thought maybe I was being naive but realized that the words didn’t exist anymore and naive didn’t make sense. And I got back to work and I salted the oceans and the unraveling whales began to float and I created fowl to rest on their backs with soft feet and resting wings. And I created the wind to lift them up and in the wind I scattered seeds of purple trees and white flowers and yellow lilies because they were perfect already and cacti who didn’t know how beautiful their bloom would someday be.

And he opened his diary and read my words and together we changed them to sounds that this language hasn’t tasted yet. And as we talked I let my eyes and his eyes create one focus and there was no distance because we’re all atomic particles anyways and everything is invisible and maybe also feelings.

And he said “let’s make this better” and I laughed because it meant nothing in this reality we created together and I got back to work.

I took a breath and perfumed the air and gave tiny wings to a tiny Spider and it knitted itself a sweater and unraveled its legs and it chose for itself a buzz that reminded me of summers on Cape Cod. So I fixed the buzz and turned it into a hum and it reminded me of nothing.

And I ran a river over a rock and made myself a chair and grew a tree into my desk and I tried to remember what else God made at his workshop and whether Noah would have saved the whales. And I had the Spiders knit me a soft and long and lined piece of paper. And I made a lamb so that I could name my paper Lamb-Colored Paper and it would mean something. And I made a squid and made Squid Ink in my pen and I sat and I drew a picture. Unfortunately, I was never good at drawing and my creatures were ugly. Fortunately, that meant nothing and I made them anyways. And he watched from the sky and laughed and forgot and about sin and pain and sadness and I began to write the definition of love without a definition of hate.

My Children:

I apologize if my words translate badly to this language. I apologize for the meanings they carry that have placed you into strings of spider. I apologize for it all.

As I created worlds, he gently and quietly and earnestly wrote Fear. And fear wrote hell. And hell housed sin, pain, and sadness. And Fear birthed hate and suspicion and webs of creation and time were separated. And he created “Other.” And our eyes touched no more and time ran too quickly, My Children.

My Children, look around you with the eyes I drew you and taste dew drops and drink rivers that carve canyons. Fear is not in the river and there you must play. Fear is not in the sky and there you must jump. I will float you to the stars in symphonies of blue if you pull your hair over your eyes.

You were created in nothingness, after everything was gone.

I did not write truth because truth means nothing. I wrote thought to guide my world to you. It is yours entirely and if not for Fear you would take ownership of your mind’s eye.

My Children, take caution but do not have Fear. My Children, do not reach through the ears of your young and make worlds for them for fear of their miscreation. Those who try will be frozen, and I will send my lambs to walk through you, and I will send my Spiders to patch you back up, and I will send you back in motion, as you will only then know yourself.

My Children:

He is gone. We shouldn’t have moved in together anyways. I’m glad it is over and his hair is now cut and his beard now holds yesterday’s dinner.

I am mine in the absolute and neither peace nor war will change that. My Children, this is your first day of school.

Unlearn everything. Close your eyes before you reopen them. Don’t use the word “truth.” Don’t let him write you Fear.

I did not define greatness for you, My Children. Define it yourself and let it define you. Let your breath perfume your life. Create whale lovers and Spider seamstresses and carry fowl on your wings. Wrap time around yourself, let it keep you warm and let it drive you on and let it carry the sweetest tastes of dew. Grow out your fingernails so you can scratch hard at the surface of things, but also buy a shovel. Set fire to everything, because when time stands still fire will change you. Scream new sounds and dance new dances to new music.

The World Before was glory and I remembered what I could. But it means nothing now and your time webs are stronger because of it. Snip at your edges and prune your gardens of yellow lilies that were born perfect.

My children, run freely and shake out your bones.

I am holding the sun for you in one perfect today. Rest in that fact, and stop asking for tomorrow.

My Children, with my two hands I give you knowledge of incorruption and sinlessness.

My Children,

I present to you: The Fullness of Forever.


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