If a picture is worth a thousand words,
Then it’s worth a million memories.
About these things we call “The Past”, made up of things which may or may not have come to pass, but still make up who we are, just the same: it’s still all a part of that life-long game…of choosing and choices, of visions and voices…and who knew what new things the next path would bring?
And there’s no one to blame, because the concept of a chosen reality could be the key to all existence, see? I have wandered and pondered, till the hours got squandered and lost among the days which turned into weeks and months. Bogged down by baggage which crushed and twisted all that might have been into what wasn’t. Vonnegut said, “And so it goes.” And so it does. But it’s never ‘easy come, easy go’, because…
If the subject line stayed blank, then those who didn’t care would never question it. Those who sought more, however, they would forever be wanting to fill in the blanks, and read between the lines, or show how this related to that. Over-analyzing even the simplest things, while the momentum of whatever madness overtook their abused, misused minds found refuge in their tin-foil hats…the better to keep out the aliens, eh?
So when this moment melts into the next, and I’m stuck here, trying to get to there any way that I can, by clawing my way back to where I used to be, at least I can say that I survived it. By hook, crook and cracked half-measure of thought which was bought with blood and salt of a hundred-thousand tears…I counted…it really ought to mean something significant, in the grand, overall scheme. It should be worth its weight in gold, or glory, or some forgotten, untold, one-sided story…because everything has two sides. Dual natures and paradigms, when one is dropped, the other climbs, and nothing EVER stays the same thing it was. Mutable, changing, forever shifting and morphing into something else.
And those who cause it to happen, the catalysts, and charlatans of truth…will never realize how the simple act of lying killed another piece of the world. Well, how could they? They didn’t even know the picture would be permanently etched into the canvas of anyone’s ‘past’. Or maybe…probably more accurately…they just didn’t care. Because they’ve never been there, to that place, where what you say matters, and what you do matters even more. To have never been on the other end, betrayed by the face of a so-called friend, because that would require a conscience. So the soul-less won’t get to hell, or even purgatory…well…it really doesn’t matter where they think they’ll ‘go’, because karma comes back around…and we reap what we sow.
The million memories of this picture will fade and disappear into the star-filled night, as the ashes from the curled, charred edges float in cinders of light, bright justice for the real photographer.
So go ahead – Ply your trade, you fake. It won’t change the truth of who and what you are. And when your pictures never develop, maybe you’ll realize it’s because you never bothered to use any film.
~ C.L.R. ~ © 2007