I have seen theses keys before
These black and white keys that my fingers meet
Ohh so often and ohh so desperately.
They have left a trail across the earth
Behind me as I pass through places and thoughts and
People and the very light of very light.
I am weak with them and more with out them
I find other things though to touch then these keys
I am not confined to expressing my self
In letters. I can touch metal strings or pieces of wood
Fallen from trees and left to die.
But my fingers need these lettered arrangement of keys at times.
I never know when the need will arise it simply arises
and I can do no other then allow them their seemingly deranged movement.
It is frightening to me what this deranged movement might provide me with
And in turn the world. Do I sensor these flailing touchings? Do I
Submit them to some kind of sieve? Do these fallings, which I feel so much
A necessary occurrence, be kept in the dark?
Or do I suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune?
But to oppose them what a sea of trouble will come.
When we have shuffled off these mortal problems
And stand openly naked, serenely asleep
Ohh what dreams may come!
A sleep, a sleep,
a sleep for my kingdom of electrical impulses flashing from my fingers
and into the circuits that deliberate all human knowledge and experience,
that meaningless compilation of humanity, that accessible metallic heart
suggesting “Did you mean: Atheist” when all you want to know is
what to call someone who believes in God.
What a senseless thing to do, to contribute to the compendium
of all human knowledge.
Who wants all this knowledge?
And once it is acquired what will be lost?
Will I have to give up my soul to it?
The great “It” who took away the farmers lands and gave him a factory job.
The great “It” that guaranteed our children a better life and the great “It” that took them away. The great “It” will promise us eternal life someday but I will choose death.
The day will come when there will be no logical necessity to die.
And yet I will die, me and my barbarity.
In that day the History books will talk about the end of old age and death
and it will be the final proof that God is a liar and that the Serpent
told us the truth, “You will surely not die.”
And in the face of this I will choose death. I will choose the dirty end of life,
I will choose purpose, I will choose meaning, I will choose to believe.