Carbon Copy

An Expose

I suddenly want to expose all of my innards - not the gruesome sliminess of intestines, gall bladders, or lungs, but the heart. The indistinctness of what is real inside me. What is it that responds to music, to powerfully written words, to the night sky or the clear, spring day? Where does that come from?

So lets, start with right now. What am I feeling? A little sad - not sad, but solemn. Thoughtful. But I don't know what I'm thinking about it. Somehow, it would be easier to just pound it out on a piano rather than putting it into words. If I did slip my fingers over the keys, it would be a slowly moving tune, full of minor chords. Something mellow, but whole and complete. It would have a richness to it, a complexity that would take several listenings to really hear. I think that's how my heartbeat works. A syncopated pattern that is unpredictable.

Today, I'm ready to settle under the sky and just allow my senses to feel, to hear, to taste spring in the air. At the same time, I'm ravenous for good reading, to have others put this indistinctness into words. To settle it inside myself. But I think what I really like is the struggle to understand it.