Chasing the Moment
It was rolling, the ball was rolling and I didn’t have to do a thing.
The air, the light, the body were fused into one.
Energy transformed into matter.
I, the lights, the people, the movements of my hands,
I couldn’t tell them apart.
I could see no eyes, no ears, no mouths.
Who needs eyes and ears and mouths when the body can speak
and see and hear everything.
The body, what body, you asked.
The body, my love, the body, I replied.
The ever-present body. The can’t-do-without-it body. The knowing body.
The searching body. Searching who, you said.
Searching everyone and everything, I replied.
Searching you, searching me, searching the…
I stopped talking.
Why talk when there’s nothing that can’t be said with silence?
The silence of a heartbeat sound.
The sound of a breath breaking into glass, turning into ice.
Who wants ice when you can feel the heat of the moment, the heat of desire,
the heat of a loving whisper. Whisper?
Why whisper and miss a beat when you can shout?
Shout and be heard. Shout and be shouted back. Deafening each other.
Oh no, I want silence, what pleasure to have silence again.
Here we go, repeating ourselves. I despise repetition.
Repetition without rhythm. Repetition without meaning.
Meaning what exactly, you said.
Meaning I know nothing, I replied.
And why should I? Is there a rule against that?
I don’t want to know ok? I do want to know!
Space, I need space. Space in my head. Space to listen to only what I want to listen.
Reject the rest, without a second thought.
Is this cruel? Egotistical? Blind?
Or simply the truth?
Truth! Ha! Is there such a thing, you said.
You know what’s real today is false tomorrow.
Who are you? Do I know you? Do you know me?
Or do we just shuffle along side by side,
compulsively pushing one moment to the next, scared to keep still.
Day in day out, ghosts of ghosts, clusters of molecules moving in close proximity
to each other, pushing time forward out of necessity.
I did hear you mention the word necessity earlier, you think I don’t listen?
You think I’m not here? I’m always here, waiting for you.
I’m never anywhere but here and that’s the problem.
Major problem. This being-here business. This being-here-now business.
It hurts. I mean, the light is too bright and it hurts my eyes.
So, what’s for dinner?
© Nina Rapi