The joy of creation,
that is where it is at.
Not the joy of the created.
Don’t you see? Don’t you see? Don’t you see?
So this is where bliss enters into the world,
this is the umbilical point to the everlasting source.
The act of creation opens the floodgates.
What gets created, not so important.
This is the mistake, the madness of mass production.
They make more. They make it faster, and cheaper.
They miss out. They miss out. They miss out.
They never know the joy of creating. What machine can feel joy?
A product holds only less than a mouse’s grain of joy.
It is an accidental leftover from the joy of the creator, infused will-lessly.
Hands are forgotten, the wretched things, tools unremembered at is pours forth.
Why does this secret keep getting lost.
Eyes on the prize? You Fool!
Step lightly and carelessly over the lip of the abyss
Into the void with you.
A daring aside follows.
Lost in moments of darkness,
The fleeting edge held together
The jaws of death slather and froth
Disaster beckons forth at every moment
It temps us with the lie we want to hear
It draws the mind back to the wrong point
It slavishly puts forth is call to a return to everday mistakes
Turn away, do not look into the awful maw
Stay the course, hold true to the razor edge
Walk it and feel it cut deep into you
Let the blood spray and walk on
Even to the bone as it sinks deeper
Even this cannot dissuade.
Push it forward.
Revel in this astounding hellish heaven
Ha ha! The madness courses now fully and freely
And nothing can touch me
And I am immortal at last forever and always
The inevitable crash looms dead ahead
There is no salvation from it
Except to return here and do it all over again.
Yes give me my sloppy tools in my clumsy fingers, once again.
Put all thoughts of the future into oblivion.
Let this moment last forever.
I will drink deep from this well, and know it for what it is.
Until I forget, again…