Fallow

Today I long to dress and represent morbidity. Like the zombie ghost of soldier woman in camouflage, wearing wounds, face bruised, white and painted with the word incognito. To be as such and allow this face not to smile with bulbous laughter. Let the cheeks sink to the bone and reveal nothing except the bare.

And what is this fascination with the gruesome? Is it masochism or some other fancy term for the love of the rawness in the suffer? Not really, it's the love of seeing the beauty in the dead and disgusting. Have you ever looked at a dead bird and thought how beautiful it was, at peace, at rest. All the trials and survivals of its' life lay fallow in cold eyes.

Still it is a decision to see this beauty. Just like anything else, the experience is up to the mind. In other company I confess I might just screech in disgust, and that too is a decision. Yet which is more real?

Maybe I got too much sun and I'm drawing back inward to the realness of living on this Earth. With all it's challenges and growing pains. Still, there's beauty in the heights. But it lives for the high! It lives for the consumption of enjoyment, waste and favor. Instead of the pits and shadows where you scrape your strongest roots in the dark to feed a soul that's weathered by bright light and materialism.

And this is the ramble that lived in this shell today. Sharing is always welcome...