We’re learning what it means not to be sick animals anymore. We’re learning to stop hating ourselves. And hating everything. We’re learning who we’d be if we weren’t contorted. And twisted. And turned in on ourselves. If we were, like, opened out – out of our self-devouring. If we were possessed by something good, not something evil. But it wouldn’t be possession. That’s the wrong word: possession.
Love: do you believe in that? Do you believe in a love that could just beam out of us? I believe in love.
Hatred’s only what love’s become on Earth. It’s only a twisting of love.
It’s as though some vast and subtle bomb has dropped. As if a soft explosion was blowing through everything. A good destruction – only without anything being destroyed. A ruination in goodness – but with nothing actually ruined.
Everything has been shifted, just a little. Moved sideways. Tilted, just a little. We no longer not live in the same world.
Work in Progress 