Thu, 19 May 2005

the uncontrolled vocabulary
“What is it — this thing which now forces itself upon my notice? What is it made up of? How long was it designed to last? And what qualities do I need to bring to bear on it — tranquility, courage, honesty, trustworthiness, straightforwardness, independence, or what?” (Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book Three, Hays trans.)

They were born twins, and assumed they would remain as such, but the years wore on them in different ways, brought up different attributes, which only increased as one walked north and one walked south, and they took up new homes, new wives, until you wouldn’t even know they were twins, wouldn’t even know they were brothers. One I knew well, years ago, and the other I only met once, and I realized something, watching them uncomfortably joke with each other. The god hates equivalence. No one thing can ever be substiuted for another. I was thinking of that this morning, making breakfast, watching the global warmed December rain out the window, watching the factories across the fields grinding away, and I thought of myself as a distinctive form, as a thing which is seperate from what is around me, though perhaps invisible, as things which share a form and color and texture hide each other, and perhaps to understand what is distinct in me, I need to leave here forever.
(12:14.05.19.2005) [/ana] #