For some reason the truth of this statement has hit home on a number of levels lately. From completing one degree and starting another just days after my thesis defense, to caring for a dear friend whose past had a head on collision with her present, to other new beginnings which are not my own, but which contain the sign of an end, one I know and feel all too well, that is closer to my heart than any other.
There is no easy transition from one to the other.. the articulation of a "beginning" is completely subjective. It is only possible from the perspective of a subject. It is a choice. It is the end of a scene.
We have our stories don't we? You have yours and I have mine. We hear a little of each other's, we sometimes fill in the gaps with our own inventions, our own assumptions. Won't you sit for a while and help clear up the misconceptions? You are after all a brother.. a sister. Will we continue to play host to demons of our own design? We were once friends, we could be still.
Who has had a radical break? Tell me who has lost a multitude of worlds in a moment of time? Whose beginning has been an end? Who has seen that the promises of friends and religion are chaff in the wind? For who has truth been a sword of Damocles? I know a man. When I am old I will know him.
There's no use in raging. In poetry there is a kind of solace.. silence is better.
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