sometimes people tell us silly things on whims to see how far we'll go but maybe they're the ones who are being dragged, not us, by their curiosity. we are just learning, and they are waiting, and if nothing insightful occurs in their lives, they have lost and we have benefited.
i'd like to pretend that everything i do has meaning purpose and contributes to society, but in truth it's just mad cavorting to the music i hear piped into my head by the world. the rhythm of sneakers on cement and the unnatural chords of exhaustion painting themselves across people's faces. the slow drift of time once we're too exhausted to realize that time is creeping by, and too tired to care that work is due that we've not finished. because after a point in time, there's no point to it all. every assignment becomes a part of the tsunami of stress that threatens to overwhelm us. and we turn our backs to that wave in denial - and miraculously it vanishes- until we turn back around.
i laugh inside at people's faces as they lose sight of the sense behind my choreography. they lose track because they are looking for a logical well-reasoned plan. of course it's not sillies. the dance itself is a whirl of chaotic thoughts and ideas and emotions whirling in tandem to the expressions on your faces. they're queued into existence by the shift of your shoulders and escorted out at the negligent twitch of a deceptive eyebrow. the pattern is not one thought, but one felt. it follows the pattern natural to unhinged humanity and is bordered by the electric fence of ingrained morality and manners. my humor slips in though and colors it bizarre shades that confuse you all all the more -to my delight. humor as my deliberate attempts to bamboozle succeed.
i am never successfully unpredicted, because there are brains far greater than mine within reach, dancing always on the edges of my consciousness, reminding me that my games are reciprocated, challenged, and superceded by their own, but in the long run it doesn't matter. the tune i'm dancing to is my own piper's call. and if you can't hear it, i'm not surprised, and if you can hear it i will laugh. if you can understand it, you will tantalize my curiosity and if you embrace it, i will love you.
there is no beat or rhythm unacceptable in the patterns of life, but the restrictions we impose attempt to conform what cannot be contorted into something measurable, therefore identifiable, therefore corruptible.
sometimes it is best to close your eyes and dance.
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