Not-yet philosophy, speaking through us.
From what hovered before philosophy. That philosophy always betrayed. Philosophy, amnesiac, speaking through us. Philosophy stranded. Left behind. That wasn’t yet philosophy.
Philosophy, marooned before itself. Wandering without itself, without its memories. Because we ourselves had been marooned in life! Because we ourselves had wandered in life! Because that was the truth of our hourly paid condition! Because that’s what we’d known in our years of service teaching!
We spoke the truest word, which means the most abandoned word. The found word, which is also the lost word. We spoke what was forgotten before the beginning of the world. And of what would pulse there after the end.
Not yet philosophy! Not even philosophy! The breath before. The stillness before. As we laid everything out in a series of declarative sentences. Anaphorically. In a wisdom of despair – achieved despair. In the beauty of despair.
Work in Progress 