Blue Sorbet

listen.

i strive for good news. i want to look at you in the eye and know that this is all real. something flutters in the corner of my eyes, a blinking like bicyclists whirring past your window, when you are at the table in her bath robe drinking coffee because you haven't had any sleep, staring at the phone because you haven't seen her for weeks, fingering perfume, because its scent makes you forget and feel high.

why shouldn't the moon believe me
when i blame it all on you.

the thickness of my scars
is no way to gauge the pain
you've already presupposed me
to have felt.

i hold this bowl of water,
so that you may know my name.

to master something is to become the god of it. to be master is to be god. to be god is to master.

what then of those that seek mastery? how can it not be seen as self involved idolatry? whether it is mastery of an attitude, a sport, a past time, hobby, job, relationship, exercise, the fact that the leaden cowl of godhood is the end goal lumps these selfseeing visionaries into a potentially identical category. they seek to dominate. to become the apex, the pinnacle of a wide pyramid called ability.

god, by very nature, is a specific ideal. in this way, so is the concept of mastery. humanity, by very nature, is an infinite ideal. we are everything and nothing. when it is all boiled down to molecular soup there is not one specific virtue or atom within us. we are universal, infinite beings. to seek mastery is to make a mockery of what we are at the core level. it is to place blinders on an all seeing and all penetrating glow, shrouding a light with the false hope of intensifying the little that remains, into specificity, into mastery, into godhood.

truly we cannot make ourselves into gods, for that would be the greedy lord placing the mantle of mastery on his own shoulders, though he wove that fine drapery from his socks and trousers. we are gods, but not in the rigid definition we continue to demand. The object of Life Mastery, Enlightenment, those ultimately pure and holy ideals, is not done so that we might swim oceans, bend the wills of others or throw lightning bolts. The pure goal is to be the lightning and the lightning strike, to be the swimmer and the waves in which he swims, to be the bend and the will and the others. It is to be all.

never one. you must satisfy and nurture your infinity. never peer overlong down one rabbit hole, oh alice, for there are thousands in every field that is sunny and green.