I Can't Hope To Understand//like a shark, I swim hungry

Jonny Greenwood - Open Spaces
Ted Lucas - Raga in D
Bibio - It Was Willow
Bjork - Desired Constellation
Radiohead - Cuttooth
Nine Inch Nails - 25 Ghosts III

*fixed all links*

// orchestra.acoustic.newage.atmosphericpop.alternativerock.soundscape \\

I've run too many laps to feel how great the sloth may overtake, but the ease with which you slaughter a clock's marathon with idle purpose disturbs the eager soul beneath your chest. I can hear it roar and snap from between your lungs, a painful scream for attention that causes your veins to vibrate with anticipation; but you rub your arms quiet and rest longer, the desire to rise and run too little to push. How fast does this security hold, how stubborn must the stars align to show a world beyond yet close enough for you to find; I have walked many wearisome paths, and come across too many ends, to understand why you waste your feet and settle home when the world with arms desperately open waits for you.

Maybe you need incentive, and have found none thus far. Fair enough, I think, so now I must, with toes subdued and ankles made useless, discover the mystery that weakens your nomadic soul and curious heart. I will start at the beginning, when we first met:

In a playground you sat deep on a swing that took you far enough up high that I thought you may soar, but fast you clung to those rusted protecting chains. The first thing I noticed about you was the way your eyes lit up as the your feet crossed the treeline and the sun met your smile with his. I knew then you could find the Fountain of Youth if only you let go of those creaking links.

Like a tape skipping, slipping, and sputtering, now I find you sitting on a park in a haze of bliss and psychedelia. That burning star is falling behind midnight's army of thick cloud, but your sunglasses are stalwart protectors that will stay on your face until the sunset battle is resolved. The grass is poking up at your feet and entwining your toes as you yearn to jump into the arms of mystery (I can tell), but something on that damp field kept you seated; I watch you ignore what your heart beats and why your ears ringand how your eyes burn whenever he comes near. You could have the romance of two doves on the Arc enjoying the rain, only because they are together, and the rain is beautiful to watch when you perch close to the wings of a heavenly lover.

We come now to a new vision, a doveless venture that finds the earth dry and wanting. You have no reason to run, no feeling of youth coursing through your blood, no desire to discover what else could possibly exist beyond your safe radius of unpleasant stability. You sleep awake and walk tired from one room into another, turning each door handle with apathetic disgust that exhausts your entire soul. You are killing yourself with sleepless dreams that take you farther than you are willing to ever go, and now I must put down this typing pen and cry, cry for what you used to be, cry for the beauty you used to embody, cry for the joy you once kept in your smiles, cry for the adventure you once started but never saw through, cry for the course your life is set, and cry for that dwindling flame in your half-shut eyes.

I hope you heed my words and open a new window this evening; take off those guardians of sunlight, and stare deep into the sky's stubborn stars, read their intentions with excited thrill and then gallop out of your brick enclave. I hope you remember that child who aimed high with a swing, smoked deep with curiosity, and loved unconditionally. If that child has died, then I beg you to light a new fire, with equal parts pleasure and dolor, so there is sufficient spark to throw yourself deep into a new mystery, an awakened life that finds colors only the enlightened eyes can use to paint their walls a beautiful Picasso.

- tgrs

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