feeling feels.

should i blame it on the moon or give power to the story? should i call a friend or howl it out? i woke up early and just cleaned the house. corners accumulating dust, markets crashed. there were purple house spiders in my dreams. the fig tree leaves are blowing in. all the while my growing belly is gnawing, pawing and becoming. An aquatic mammal is inside of me. They say the ice caps are melting, and a new human is coming. i will teach him to swim.

i like humans, fundamentally i do. i like myself. i like those rude mfkers i cross with. even those ones who spit and steal. i used to do both. so i can't help it. i like the messiness of it. i believe in us. we're not good or bad, we just are. and for one cosmic hot second i am gonna be.

sometimes i also feel... like why? why we gotta be like this? why we gotta be fukd up to eachother so much? the garbage piling up on my corner is outrageous. dirty diapers and excess wealth in poverty stink. mind and matter, the gossip is flowing. and i've lost more of my sight over the years.

but then i just remember, in the same corner of my mind i just dusted, as the morning sun peaks on mountain peaks : our messy human nature is our song, and it's just one song in an opera that sings in the divinity in nature. one day it will get snuffed out.

so maybe today i should sing louder.

(thanks Martin Prechtel. Grief really is praise, i guess.)