The fifth night
All our futures are our pasts overtaking our present. We know that the only realistic pledge is to the future, the shape forming events of yesterday are done and change will come, inexorably and absolutely, but if we are in tune with this transformation, it can be directed and channelled with our poetry and songs.
Deridda wants it both ways. Truth and lies, together and apart, black and white, secrets and transparency, the duality of opposites hiding the fact that all things are repelled from each other. As the distance between objects increases, so does their velocity, moving faster and faster, through the speed of light, eventually each point disappearing into horizon lines that are plucked from the centre of our own eyes. The ray of truth is only seen when looking eye to eye, an extramissionist belief (11) in non-refractive rays, but truth repels and has an unacceptable visage. Lines of sight are bent around large masses, the weightier the body the tighter is the bend, the greater the truth therefore the more distortion.
A threadbare bird hosts the last goose quill that will be used to write the world and pen Deridda’s poem of a future classless socialism. A dog watches.
To not act on what is seen to be the case is to hold off the future. But all futures come of themselves, we have no power over them, except the weak force of nostalgia. If the present is not connected to either the past or the future it can be the site of madness, lunar variations, causing the seas to rise unseasonably, the crops to fail, and cities to be emptied by the floods that rise.
There is at times a resonance between the people and an individual. A man or woman of the people, producing a song for the people, that is the song they need to sing that sets their hearts to beat in unison. By chance they hit the button, stroked the people’s G spot with their touch, no method acting genius but common application driven by a switched on mind. The genius is in the generosity of spirit. Invention fits the gap between the present and the future.
Time, history, the world are simply labels to hang our thoughts on. Each requires a transformation, each can metamorphose into the other without a pause for breath. In translation they shift faster, forms will twist and form again as their new master shapes them on the anvil of nationality.
1. The temperature of horses is sealed in their gonads.
2. The times are in traction.
3. The mode is in reverse.
4. This epilogue is dishonourable.
Disjointed is not unjust, it is simply a physical condition. Watching someone relocate a dislocated shoulder can be distressing, but for the double jointed an everyday activity.
11 Extramission theory: A belief that vision consists of rays of light emitted by the eyes that illuminate the world around us.
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