You come from a time of creation, motion, chaos.
I live in a time of stagnation, fog.
This is not rest, its petrifaction.
It creeps in from limb. to soul. And finally to brain.
Through my books I wander the topography of other people's ventures. But when I come back to my own body my feet are rooted. I have not moved at all.
I am sitting in the terminal, waiting for my life to begin, I don't realize that its already rolling down the track. I must run to catch up, jump on. But its so far. I have sat waiting for so long, I've forgotten how.
While I sat waiting a journey was picked, without my knowledge maybe, but with my full consent.
And now, I am supposed to run down the tracks, jump on the train, and be the master of my destiny. But I am blind. And weak. And without my sight so very very complacent.
Vulnerable I do not have the strength to chart my own course.
I need someone to give me a hand, give me a lift. And while they help me to my train teach me how to steer it.
You, who danced in the chaos and thrived on the movement, could be my guide. Teach me how to run. Your words briefly cut like a sword through the blinding compliance into which I have sunk
Do I have the strength to keep my eyes open?
Every second delay my life goes further on without me. Every minute it becomes harder to remember why I ever wanted to leave this room
I am sitting in the terminal, waiting for my life to begin; it should be here soon.
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review please! clearly I'm not past begging, let me know what you think.