connect.

There is yet the collective goal, the humanity that runs through us and among us, the commonality that allows a word, a line, a paragraph to shine the same wattage light in a thousand, a million heads simultaneously, the wind that carries with it a message, in no known language, unreproducible, and yet immediately comprehended, there is the cement, the asphalt, the gravel, the sand, the grass, the dirt, the carpet that we all tread, all the earth and all the imitations of the earth, there is an umbilical link, the door we come in through, all of us, and to which we remain tethered until we find our own unique exit, there is everything seen from afar, all flat and normalized, all the ant-heap activity of the human race putting out puffs of pollution into the cosmos, little dust-mites, or sending satellites into the future, there is the ink we scrawl across the page, the writing in the sky, the graffiti on a crumbling wall of cement and rebar, the poems we write first in our hearts and then with the blood these hearts pump, there is the common duty, forsaken but not forgotten, there is the clarion call, inaudible but not muted, there is the double helix we each of us carry around, and which yearns so imperceptibly toward others as we pass them in the street, in our dreams and imaginings, there is the transparent heart, its tunnels, caves and veins glowing inside our chests, just like the exposed meat of a ripe plum, pulsating at you so close to your face after that first bite, its nerves exposed and sloping down into the cavity you’ve created with your teeth, glistening, pulsing with the message, the theme, the thread, shooting back light-speed toward the original, the first meaning, the first word, the one we cannot pronounce with a single mouth, or indeed ever hear pronounced, since its one eternal syllable began to be uttered at the beginning of time and will not finish until the end…

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