STARDATE: 05/16/2023
“This device isn’t a spaceship. It’s a time machine. It takes you backwards and forwards to a time you know you are loved.”
-Don Draper, The Carousel, Mad Men
Möbius
Mobius,
We meet again.
At the edge of despair,
We round a corner to hope.
Dancing like two lovers
on summer break.
Round and round we go.
Mobius floats,
Mobius flies,
Mobius pops,
Mobius dies.
There goes the black balloon.
Déjà Vu
…a loop.
Ancient technology.
Time immemorial.
Too overwhelming?
Yes.
We gave you a shape.
A circle snaked unto itself.
First there was the word
And the word was Möbius.
And the word was God.
Don’t believe me?
Ask your déja vus.
Inflection points.
Cross-streets and familiar faces.
Different lives saying hello
across time and space.
Yes, time is…
The Trolley
Stop by and say hello.
Hop aboard.
Ticket: 1 story.
Give a story. Get a story.
What kind of stories?
Love.
Sweet love.
“Clang clang clang went the trolley…”
Some sirens we cannot ignore.
A calling beckons.
Immediately, I know.
Not a damn thing can keep me from her.
Not the painful lessons.
Not even a road full of nails.
“Inconceivable!”
Try as we might,
There are some sirens we cannot ignore.
“Ding ding ding went the bell…”
The soul cannot lie.
Ain’t no chameleons round here.
Only you.
Our heartbreak is dissonance.
Painful reminder of mis-calibration.
Who fuels the rate of our decay?
Nature or Netflix?
We’re begging for contrast.
Turn it up.
All the way.
Drown out the egos.
We ain’t paying attention.
Course correct.
So we dance and dance and dance.
Long after the music’s broken.
Searching for soul frequency.
We look the fool.
Boo-boo the fool.
“I went to find my soul
and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.”
Nothing to find.
No searching to be done.
Only stillness reveals the tone.
Soul tone.
The unmistakably you there is.
Even in death there we are,
vibrating at the purest we,
there is.
How do you look for something
you cannot lose?
Like life yearning for itself,
Surrender.
“Zing zing zing went my heartstrings…”
Water in a desert hurts.
First gulps sting parched throats.
Life shocks bodies accustomed to death.
We get the fits.
Our guts rage against the machines.
Ibs is a way of life around here.
Disturbing.
“From the moment I saw him I fell.”
The first time I looked in the mirror I felt fear.
disturbing.
All aboard the trolley!
Destination: Soul.
Price: Resistance.
There goes the siren’s song.
