It could have been a normal occurrence of simple distraction. Maybe it was just a mid-week happening, also aligning with planets and its heavenly bodies. Nevertheless, my thirsty eyes begged for a surface to run its parched tongue upon; some plane to offer sustenance from a visually unappealing afternoon. Upon a bathroom wall laid the remains of historic conversation, words that lived only long enough to die by nature’s wretched wheel. “I was here, am here, will always be. Because I once was, I continue to be. Through death I am only relocated to another time and place.” The graphite phrases upon an ocean of aging sheetrock are corpses, the sheddings of a prior meaning. Through death, a meaning, an idea, a dream becomes stronger and planted. Erase as one may, one is only benefiting to the transfer of ideals of a simple wanderer, a traveler, from one life to the next, one embodiment to another.

12/30/2008