Here I am in the twenty-first century with an intent to keep a low profile. Here’s the school infringing on that independent resolve, making me participate on the blank pages of cyber space. “Do your homework and there will be nachos,” said no history teacher ever in the history of teaching history teaching Virginia Beaching (!!!!!!!). Just what sort of resourceful sorcery shall source our source of mad madness, our madness, our species’ mad madness of such sad sadness and badness without gladness? Madness species beachy feces@#$%^&*(!!!!!!!?!).

Sorry about that…

Beloved and I work seven hours/twenty-four days a week… Or perhaps I speak on behalf of I and myself. For she wakes up at the fracture of dawn (soap) and takes it all the way to three-sixty (five). On a hand left obscured, I always feel as though I have something to do, and I can’t do anything else until I’ve done that which I have yet to do. What do I have to do that I have yet to do? Something that used to always occur but still does. It used to always look like this but now it looks the same way……? I used to always like her a lot more yesterday than I have the day before tomorrow. Yet this isn’t to say, “This is the day that I am over the bay.” The people in the past shall always last, and the last past goes by fast last.

Nothing ever stays in place around the premises; grades, classmates, not even the tables in that raucous pie hole they call a cafeteria. Oh, the ever so ominous guise of they. Oh, my soul. Neither do I often tread within the piazza I once called sanctuary.  Nothing ever out there for me nowadays. Nothing, no one, I stay behind and they continue to walk. And the wind blows against me. I continue to walk and they stay behind. And the wind blows against me. Oh, my soul. Heck, I’ve even been spat out from a slab that never belonged to me. (Life is a dog in hot water.)

Something doesn’t feel right anymore; about me, about this place, about the hour in which the rhythm rolls with the motion of the day. Something about the passing of the times. Months have passed and not an emerald shamrock on the field of sullen brown. Where has the times gone? I never see what I never saw. I never knew what I have never known. The more I see, the less I know. How far have I truly gone, only to return to the place I never truly left? This place, this hour and I, myself, has changed so much to the point of subtle change, if not no change at all! To the point where I no longer sense change! To the point where I no longer recognize change. In a matter of moments, the class has assembled only to disperse once again. In a matter of moments, you and I will be strangers, again.

If anyone was to ask what I see at present, I see all the students of this generation going one way, but in separate directions. Once, in a distant beginning, people of one walk looked to the north. When they reached the center, one walk ultimately became many walks. Those who went westward looked to the east for guidance. Most who went east remained in the east, yet some who went east continued on east until reaching north, only to go south. Those who went westward eventually met those who went south. And if things have went south in recent years of days, perhaps it was because of west.

I see a community stretched thin of resource and honest connection. As the community gets larger and thinner, this world appears to get flatter and smaller. The larger the government, the smaller the citizen. Meanwhile, the fool on the hill sees the sun going down, and the eyes in his head sees the world spinning ‘round. He knows this, however; the sun rises for no one, just as the world revolves around no one. The photograph merely presents light on display, the light presents a ghost from a day of a future passed. Just as the apology of a wise one meets the eye upon a paperback. On the corner of Nowhere and Elsewhere, before the Sun sets on the Solstice of the third season, in the Sixteenth year of the Second Millennium, if not too long a passive soul, meet me at the whispering wall. In the house of Providence, I shall wait here all the days of my life…