The Philadelphia skyline has more narrativity right now
than I can possibly conceive.
Sitting on the roof if the world starts to end
I just bend my neck back and around like a flower on a long, thin twig,
and I see the whole place. The sky that blocks out the fullness of space.
The panoramic, mothership cloud that blocks out the sun.
It’s the street below and the trees and the skyline and the whole sky that produces the Strangeness.
It’s the trying to separate a part from the whole. It’s the loneliness. The loneliness is the step before the Strangeness.
The Strangeness is the step before the beauty. If it overwhelms me then the wonder manifests: what a fantastic womb this all is.
Like at a dance club with a couple hundred people after a wedding reception.
Lights, and pop music, vibrate these days like never before. It feels like heartbeats.
Folks do strange things, and so do I, yet still I wonder if they know about the Strangeness.
Why am I standing so tall, my spine so full and so light? I was sober too.
Most folks were not sober and were lonely. But on the dance floor they dispelled that loneliness.
They channelled the Strangeness, whether they knew it or not.
And all of them there, and all the music videos to the songs playing on TV screens all around,
and having just seen a beloved friend of mine change her name in a patch of God-light,
overwhelmed me. What is this life but a manifestation of God?
Every moment, everything. There is respecting that, and there is not.
From there derives all morality, conscience. Innocence ever unfolds through time, a constant gateway through which anyone can view anything and see the truth.
It is my magnifying glass, and I am some sort of Sherlock Holmes in God’s womb.
-Words, Summer 2127