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The Not So Good Earth
(a rationale for the irrational)

The hurt and the pain render us immobile as we are caught in the binds of ourselves. Sometimes letting the tears flow and screams resound helps ease the pain… sometimes it only causes us to drown in them… it's making the judgment call on it that is the hard part to make... but still in the end the loneliness and pain destroy me and abandon me on the roadside of life, next to the other lost souls of the not-so-good earth.

And so we too, with the cycle of our life cut short by our crafted noose, shall return to that same earth. From dust we came and to dust we shall return. All the same. The happy, the joyous, the chosen and the free - those who *lived*, buried in the dry dusty soil, mixing with the carbon of those deemed just not good enough. And who is to tell who is buried where and whether they were the chosen or the unchosen?  Time still passes and the tears of the lost and hurt and the dying and those who wish they could die, moistens the earth and renews it a perhaps kind of life.

But tears unseen by others means a pain unseen by others and so they are kept locked away far from the maddening crowd, lest they disturb others. The bars on the windows of their lonely one bedroom flat more of a prison than any hospital and the silent phone that sits on the little table in the hallway just one more painful reminder in a museum of ghosts that they are all alone, until they too return to the earth.. a journey of their own making.

For those who let not the tears fall down their cheeks but instead let drip through the aquifer of their soul, they are the ones who infiltrate the normal. The secret spies who return telling us of *life* as it should be. Walking the streets, holding the job perhaps even the family dream of the 2.5 kids, picket fence and mowing the lawn on sundays before the evening bbq with the neighbours and their kids… but they too are lost, lost and invisible in the crowd and suffering bumps and bruises of the unseen on the highway of life. They too nourish the not-so-good earth. Their blood is the life force of society, a gluttonous beast that shall eventually bleed them out.. and they too will return the earth.

So do I scream and cry and dance in my pain? Or do I sit here and pretend that I am just like you?

I don't know the answer…

So instead once more I go to ash… until I return to the dust.



Last update: Thursday, November 22, 2001 13:12

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