𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘺

The road to harmony

There are those that live in harmony, a place just around the corner from our sweaty skin realities, out there far beyond Burma Shave and Desolation, far from the grinding days of slave-like wing clipped lives and furrowed brows and shallow pockets and half hearted dreams of feral abandon.

Driving, gas pedal mashed into the floor through tight walled canyons, speed eyes searching every crack and inconsistency in the asphalt, heart pumping through excitement swollen veins, over crests and around blind corners, hugging the inside.

Full moon at midnight, headlights off, scanning the edges, feeling the road, avoiding the bitter edge. Silver-light trees blur past as the engine turns and turns, invisible songs of the dark forest slip behind you, a mystery, maybe  only ever a memory, a flash, a decay of the fractal of time.

There is chaos beneath the vast winter sky; a billion diamonds of hydrogen and helium exploding in the throws of a great love affair, a dance on a tightrope, a flash of atomic particles set free with help from the Great Electron.

Such chaos we are, inside of and in harmony with. Piano strings vibrating a chorus of universal order, or disorder. There are no chords without harmony. Without entropy. Without inclination. Without heart.

The center. The balance. The axle.

To live in harmony is to live in pure bliss and the complete wisdom of ignorance, in rapture of the continual devil’s dance of death and renewal, of fire and stone, of lion hearted dreams and stumbling cross eyed failures.

Harmony and disharmony. One is the other, and the other is The One. The snake that eats its own tail, its song the nature of all the world.

The unending now.

There are those that have driven this road, wild eyed star children, blindly feeling out the pock marked kaleidoscopic asphalt, rubber tires straining for grip, running the tight inside at 7000 rpm.

You can see it just ahead, an orange-light glow just over the next rise, coming on quickly, Harmony is right there.

But me, I’m still living in disharmony, fingers still tight on the cold wheel, windows down, cold air freezing salty tears to my aging face; like the oroboros, the snake, I’ll eat my own tail, under silver moonlight passed imagined trees and on snowy dirt roads.

Have heart, and run fast through the night, on the road to harmony, it’s the only way

WJM