jeremy, on the upswing

dear, dear Cup a Joe. my big Blanket of comfort while back in raleigh. i swim through those grey plumes and folds and my eyes are simultaneously assaulted and massaged like when one lies limp in the ocean and allows the waves to minister.

some waves travel Thousands of miles, thousands, through and across the surface of the water, all only to crash on sharp rock, or flat beach, or over top of a pair of lovers' feet. so much energy. it doesn't matter; they all die in the end. destiny says they will meet their end at x time and y place and by z method. and for what? to begin again from nothing.

such cyclical avalanches: birth and death and rebirth.

spring and winter and spring.

love and hate and maybe.