NP: Solace - Virus
This is disturbingly accurate.
Nothing like dinner with a group of conservative Christians to remind me exactly how alienated I feel from the body of Christ. All our conversations end with "We'll just have to agree to disagree," which is a phrase I vehemently despise coming from such people. By "such people," I mean only my dinner companions, not the entire religious right. My erstwhile companions are the sort of people who believe almost exclusively in absolute truth, giving only afterthoughts to the possibility of a relative truth's existence. Given this, to have them "agree to disagree" with me seems merely a cover for their lack of foundation. But I'm bitter, so my view is probably tainted.
After the cinema branch of Bohosofocomolodo adjourned Thursday night, I decided to drive out to my old apartment in Windsor. I didn't go in (people live there now, though my dad still owns it), but stared at the balcony railing awhile. I suppose I was trying to discern just how much the past year has changed me, how much I've grown (if at all), how things have remained the same. Dreams still wither and die like magenta flower petals, truth is still bound behind woven lies, but we as people change. We find new ways to cut through the silken strands of deceit. We find new dreams to bloom in the gardens of our hearts. Yet, even these new treasures will vanish into the inexorable cycle of death and rebirth. Time moves forward, but history repeates itself.
I took the back roads from Windsor to my parents' house. Cynthia was in her prime, gently revealing my deep blue shadow. Her pale radiance was thrown back at the night sky by a thin veil of fog slowly creeping across the silent fields. As I gazed out over the pristine solitude, the breathtaking emptiness, my thoughts drifted back to the all-too-recent past and the glimmering steel edge pressed into my right wrist. Had I not restrained myself, I would never have seen the ethereal beauty of that night, but I also would never have felt the gentle sting of tears in my eyes as I drove home tonight.
Which, in the end, is stronger? Or are they both facets of a larger whole, something I can't yet perceive?
Only time will tell.
This is disturbingly accurate.
Nothing like dinner with a group of conservative Christians to remind me exactly how alienated I feel from the body of Christ. All our conversations end with "We'll just have to agree to disagree," which is a phrase I vehemently despise coming from such people. By "such people," I mean only my dinner companions, not the entire religious right. My erstwhile companions are the sort of people who believe almost exclusively in absolute truth, giving only afterthoughts to the possibility of a relative truth's existence. Given this, to have them "agree to disagree" with me seems merely a cover for their lack of foundation. But I'm bitter, so my view is probably tainted.
After the cinema branch of Bohosofocomolodo adjourned Thursday night, I decided to drive out to my old apartment in Windsor. I didn't go in (people live there now, though my dad still owns it), but stared at the balcony railing awhile. I suppose I was trying to discern just how much the past year has changed me, how much I've grown (if at all), how things have remained the same. Dreams still wither and die like magenta flower petals, truth is still bound behind woven lies, but we as people change. We find new ways to cut through the silken strands of deceit. We find new dreams to bloom in the gardens of our hearts. Yet, even these new treasures will vanish into the inexorable cycle of death and rebirth. Time moves forward, but history repeates itself.
I took the back roads from Windsor to my parents' house. Cynthia was in her prime, gently revealing my deep blue shadow. Her pale radiance was thrown back at the night sky by a thin veil of fog slowly creeping across the silent fields. As I gazed out over the pristine solitude, the breathtaking emptiness, my thoughts drifted back to the all-too-recent past and the glimmering steel edge pressed into my right wrist. Had I not restrained myself, I would never have seen the ethereal beauty of that night, but I also would never have felt the gentle sting of tears in my eyes as I drove home tonight.
Which, in the end, is stronger? Or are they both facets of a larger whole, something I can't yet perceive?
Only time will tell.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home