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  • Writer's pictureMichael Menegon

Straight lines in water

Straight lines in water

Images, words, flash across my mind’s eye so I repeat them.

Are they mine or do I pluck them from the cosmos?

If I pluck them, are they mine?

I am me all the time culturally

I am me all the time cosmically

I am me all the time primordially

Who do you know?

Who do I even know?

When am I the me that you know?

If a flower makes me feel love when moments earlier, I felt no love is it my love or the flowers?

Possession is fleeting.

Each and every moment is fleeting.

Only the moments I capture and reveal represent to the world who I am but I am not any of those things.

I am as you are. I am as the stars are. I am as the earth is. I am as the water flows. I am as the wind blows. I am not the song I sang last year. That song is but a glimpse into a moment that etched its way out of me.

Does music come to me?

Do I come to music?

Do I create or is creation already here and I merely am enable a quick glance it. What do I need to do to capture creation? Why are some prone to more exposure than others? Is it because they merely wish to be exposed? Or not.

It is the insanity of permanence that creates discord and keeps us from vision.

What a vessel we are that flows down this river. Rarely at ease with our route.

Live in the realm of moment-by-moment possibilities and those entrenched in permanence will not be able or willing or wanting to follow you. They couldn’t follow even if they tried for it is curiosity that they would follow. Not me or you.

So, as inspirations take their hold, whether I believe they are mine or not, I record them until the next time I am visited. All else is the attempt to get back to a place where I have been but know not where. Like finding straight lines in water.

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