Fire and Rain

 

 

 

 

 

 Day 112: Fire And Rain

In March of 2002

after being diagnosed with Mariners Disease

a mother set her house on fire with her two daughters inside

she said, her life was over anyway

6 years later i am still trying to understand

One.

She held fire in her eyes

rain in her heart

burning bushed ribcage

10 commandments whistling in the wind

broken eardrum chimes

she,

is the angel of the forsaken

her halo

folded neatly at her ankles

an example of love and mistakes

and how they are never and always the same

Two.

Fire is the rapid oxidation of a combustible material releasing heat and light

love,

is the desire to do anything to protect someone from the world

love is just the question

fire is just one of the answers

that is never and always right

the combination,

is a mother and 2 daughters melting in a burning town house

Three.

Hate is what you feel when you don’t know the answer but you do and don’t like it very much.

Love is how you learn to forgive yourself for taking so long to learn.

Forgiveness is a human weakness.

Weakness is what makes us human.

Human is an accumulation of sex and mistakes.

Mistakes make you stronger.

False.

Mistakes help you learn.

True.

Truth is absolutely relative.

Relativity cannot be explained without making a judgment on the absolute.

The absolute does not exist.

If it cannot be explained it must not exist.

Thus, truth does not exist.

Love does not exist.

We are a product of love.

Thus, we do not exist.

Three.

I think she found out the answers before the rest of us

and it scared her

i’m not sure if i think she’s selfish

or genius

Three.

Before she lit the room

i imagine her counting to three

like every suicide divers reminder that there is still a split second before impact

One.

There is still a moment that follows the broken understanding that life

is not just a set of questions and contradictions

Two.

there are still choices

we give numbers to trails we haven’t walked upon

and hope we still reach an end

Three.

In life we count in threes

stutter at the finality of the pattern.

One.

Pause.

Two.

Think.

Three.

is there still a way out?

Or maybe she didn’t stutter…

no.

The flame burns

The body melts

the story,

ends.

If there is an end, then maybe we did exist.

Maybe.

She was wrong.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s