angel food cake
Are we food for angels?
I was trying to contact someone telepathically. I was looking at her and at times she’d look at me, im sure she always knows when im looking at her. I thought about her as an angel. I thought about everyone there who we were serving as angels. I thought what if we serve them, the angels, the 10 foot tall angels, the protectors of love, or what they call love, this thing or aspect… Love. Why do they love us? Is that even the right question to ask? What makes Love so special? What is reverent about Love? And like everyone asks, just, for gods sake, what is Love? (baby don’t hurt me… don’t hurt me)
..
It is bit of a scary thought, to this flesh, to what flesh I push the weight of my spirit inside, to think of my existence in this way, as chattel for angels in this fleshy and emotional, electric, absorbent, and decaying body... And the angels, I’m referring to are the ones referenced from that place, that space, that I don’t really want to talk about or bring up in this because how I speak right now, isn’t entirely related to that which I find so beautiful and pure, and good intentioned.. that space that inspired this thought is completely irrelevant to my own neurotic current.
That space that inspired me has good intentions. Onward from that dock I sail a boat and into a current of thought that could be disturbing, which… my body tells me is indeed disturbing, disturbing as I mean it to be.. uncomfortable, slightly uncomfortable as I sit here drinking an IPA and eat a side of Mac and cheese at a put in my neighbourhood after working all day… so, I have this feeling that I’m going to keep flowing, and it’s a dark feeling (yet surprisingly pleasant feeling), that doesn’t make me scared but it makes my skin feel like it’s being pulled and squeezed ever so slightly by a bending invisible, warm snake or worm (maybe even a giant worm, like in a dimension where I am being swallowed and metabolized by a giant worm, that’s the feeling), so light that if I weren’t paying close attention I might mistake for something natural.
How beautiful to feel that at all, to possibly feel what it would be like, to be dirt and digested then excreted by a worm.. excretion that becomes a home to the most beautiful flora and fauna, ultimately to feed a body like mine, to help me remember what of anything it is to be alive, to be a soul or spirit or energy or whatever that chooses to dwell in fruits,
Angel food cake, for everyone, we are food for so many things if we really think about it. Life is food. Yes, it is sought that we are going through the “sixth great extinction” but what a phrase to be said about everything about life, I’ll need to understand what makes this a great extinction, how can it be so great when we’re already in the process of it. Now, thinking about now, and everyone’s thinking of then and now and then we remember something. Something about clocks and, looking inside one, and the gravity it takes to push it around, how beautiful we get to spin, and how round clocks are like when we look up at the sky… though our “western” timelines can be “linear” our clocks are still round and still functional because we have a weight about us. We still are round angels inside a weighty façade.
ReplyForward
Add reaction
***** *** *** ** * *
I emailed this note I took on my phone from a day or two ago… I wrote this just after work and after I had a lovely conversation with a person about the status quo and art
