Conditional Truth

Every day I forget a little more about her.
It appears it is that easy, yes, to let go a life that had once been so intense, so essential.
Equally frightening is the vacuum here I’ve discovered beneath all relations. Of course their significance was always limited to the requirement of context. The context of the human condition, of evolutionary conditioning, and the resulting structure of family and society. But this bare, matter-of-fact truth that no interaction is deep or profound enough, is too rough and abrupt to take in at one go.
I absorb it slowly, like a bitter tonic that’s good for my health, every day that I forget her a little more.
Now it suddenly seems laughable, all this. This being on the surface of a spinning blue ball that evolved with accidental physical conditions to support complex self-replicating structures, and worrying about the profundity of love and relationships. It has no meaning, no meaning outside its own narrow human context. It’s a conditional truth, if it at all is a truth even in the human context. I don’t think it’s even that.
Goddammit, I’ve actually stopped believing in love.


I swirl

I flow among these bodies of the so-called truth.

I push some, I sink some and raise others.

And the people


And the bodies, their bodies of truth

Turn paramount once again.


I hold

I hold up these people and their masses of reality

I warm them, assure them

To nestle deep in the hard fibre of the cocoon of their construct

Because I’ve let them have it for so long

While all the time in this lonely dark ether

Where no one comes asking

I am nought.


I engulf

I loosen my grip at the fall of time

And as they step into my ether,

Their bodies of truth fall hurtling through space

Through my lonely empty blackness,

And are lost in wisps and forgotten.

And I swirl.