An Intrinsic Exquisite


maybe the rot has to do with people becoming enamored of the ease with which things can be bought or sold..

maybe misery has its purposes

maybe it's in the twisting and turning that the new being takes its shape




as she surfaced she could hear the phone ringing

decisions, decisions, decisions

should she get out of the scrumpcious delicious heat of her watery shell to tread over cold floors, leaving wet footprints to make mud of the carpet or should she stay sequestered and wondering?

or should she finally buy an answering machine?

or should she...

go back under and sing another song, let the sound vibrate in her chest and forget about the phone. all the wishing in the world wouldn't make that call be from Alistair, it would probably be a phone company with a spiel of details masquerading as a sales pitch

Mary had told her a story, a fable or the truth?

hard to tell. all Mary's stories rang in the essential like a fable, like the truth

there was this man, the story went and he wanted to help the poor struggling soon to be butterfly by cutting into its cocoon, help it break out of it shell, why should it struggle so?

and then there it was, its unformed wings remained unformed, without the dynamic of the need to grow, pushing with and against the need for restraint, the wings would have no reason

if the soul is the engineer of life then reason drives the growing. if life were merely fate's stages altering randomly then further randomization of the changes wouldn't make much difference. but somewhere in our gut we know this isn't true, we know that whatever curiosity genetic engineering satisfies, it cannot provide the soul's reason for growth

the soul is inexplicably and inextricably linked to necessity

necessity, the mother of invention, is the pagan equivalent to God the father begot the son

ideas can generate descendants but only nature can act with necessary reason, with common sense