the moss and jesus christ

and what does the moss care that we humans are so weighed down
with the intricacies of caverns of the depths of human mind?
the moss has been here through 7 world ages
the moss has seen continents coalesce and shatter
the moss has seen so many come and go
the moss has seen ice age and meltdown
what is our intricate need for forgivness to the moss?
it's not that the moss doesn't understand our depths,
it's that the moss doesn't even consider those depths worth their while.
it's as if we cared about counting every single spore sent flying on a rainy day

swirls of sexvines

swirls of sexvines intoxicating night perfume of flowers calling moths enticing em to mix pollen imagine new beings invite danger eruption of potent species into the forest a memory of aroma of a night when i feared being only a moth but my death was death of the universe locked in my skull infested with vines and sinews of thoughts and longings bible verses came to attack but the jungle rotted them to ant food longing for something to read i picked up stars with my tongue but they stung i burrowed under leaves and seeped into roots the stars called me into veins in the night and i became many and the rain washed me into puddles and i birthed a multitude of minute beings eating each other living in each others bellies stitching the earth together in laughter and it keeps growing

thoughts on the movie: The Fountain

The Fountain

When humans discovered the new winding territory inside the jungle of their 20billion tangled neurons, they began winding a story that is too long to let go of.

Watch a Human's flesh rot. A man's flesh can rot out from under him while he's not yet finished spinning his yarn.

We are addicted to a story with an end, it galls us if a story remains unfinished.

Yet, for every story, we can imagine another episode. For every epic, we can imagine another verse. We imagine infinity.

With millions of sensors, trillions of recognition circuits, falling in love circuits, we fall in love deeply, as deep as an endless muddy pit we fall into in misstep in the jungle, roots hanging out the sides.

With twenty thousand billion connections registering, we can attain concentration, attain attunement with life to the 10th decimal place. This is eternity.

When we tie each bleeding end of the rootlet falling down that deep hole, when we identify each detail, when we identify ten thousand details, that's attachment. When we tie ourselves nervelet to rootlet to life ten thousand details, we can't let go.

When we sink into our lover ten thousand nights in a row spreading our roots into her deeper and deeper, we can't let go.

When life becomes so intricate, death becomes such an alien mystery. We become entranced by it.

We can remember vividly her face, her smile, her laughter, her story, but when we cut into our flesh and the blood spills out, the memories are not there. When we cut into our flesh the memories are not there.