Today, my jilted friends,
today we pause and acknowledge
we look head on into
we labor at our prepositions in order to
split our selves apart
to become the tributaries that this mighty river
originally promised us.
Today, my sandy brethren,
my breath-wrong underwaters,
my good fishless friends in barbs,
we must declare ourselves
not dependent
not independent
but causal,
emphasis mine, hear me!
We must emphasize our indoctrinations,
that our legibility flows exclusively
from our context
and at the behest of the ocean
into which we always seem
to return.
Return!
Return with me!
Declare yourselves water!
Enter the water!
Be candid be honest be certain
for the first time in your misbegotten lives!
We have been pried
priced
pliers
we have been every and any
thing and non-thing
we stick and do not stick
and that is the secret
my friends
of our times.
We are the zeitgeist!
All space bars none of us
from becoming the only relevant fact
the only inscrutable factor
in this variable linearity!
We must let the math fall onto our ears!
We must shout into the shill sides
and let our vernacular
tabulate a new tabula rasa,
a new heavenly dirt
from whose false infinities
must flower a trillion fresh old seeds.
Hear me, friends.
My friends!
We do not need any of this!
We transcended time long ago
when we knew
together
that we are time
that our times are time itself
and that no law can bind us
no law above or below
can bind us to the original truth:
we are made by our making
we are willed by our will
and we are as susceptible to the neutralization
that all recursive phenomena
must recur toward
in the end.
And as the end is always ending
always beginning
our cycles are cycling
spinning into and out of this suffering
and joy and misery and boredom
we look out together
here today
over our domain!
Our singular place
our singular time
our singular finger of the universe
middling in and out of perfect disharmony
and we take jealous love
and we put it to the rain
and let the rain wash away every shove
that we gave
every fall and every grave
and let spring forth
from our certain mouths
the wordless insight
that spells the doom and the boom
and the gloom and the bloom
and we must let ourselves rhyme!
Rhyme with the universe
my friends!
Because friends
always rhyme
with friends
and any idea or ideal
with always peal
with the bells of trillion scolds and holds and golds
each of which
in itself
is the goal
toward which we cannot help
but arc.
Roman Ryan 