Here I Am, Where I Ought To

I Truly Think That You Can't Go And Stalk Your Material, You Have To Leave The Door Open And Whatever Chooses You, Chooses You. You Can't Go And Wrestle It To The Ground.

We Have These Earthly Bodies. We Don't Know What They Want. Half The Time, We Pretend They Are Under Our Mental Thumb, But That Is The Illusion Of The Healthy And The Protected. Of Sedate Lovers. For The Body Has Emotions It Conceives And Carries Through Without Concern For Anyone Or Anything Else. Love Is One Of Those, I Guess. Going Back To Something Very Old Knit Into The Brain As We Were Growing. Hopeless. Scorching. Ordinary.

I Might Not Be Able To Use The Word "hope," But I Could Certainly Use The Word "optimism." I'm Very Optimistic. I Don't Feel That It Helps To Be Pessimistic. At Some Point In My Life I Made A Conscious Decision That I Would Try To Be Optimistic - Not Blind To Anything At All - But To Always Hear The Way That Had The Best Chance For Happiness.

I Feel Myself Becoming Less A Person Than A Place, Inhabited, A Foreign Land.

The Story Comes Around, Pushing At Our Brains, And Soon We Are Trying To Ravel Back To The Beginning, Trying To Put Families Into Order And Make Sense Of Things. But We Start With One Person, And Soon Another And Another Follows, And Still Another, Until We Are Lost In The Connections.