Philosophy, the word seeps out like
water dripping from a cracked pipe,
leaking slowly but surely until what
was once in side is now out. Open &
opener, revealing truth on one side &
argument on the other, the pipe bursting
with opinions and opinions made fact,
glistening like hot sauce, liquid in the
sun light. but it’s not this hot sauce,
it’s philosophy. Of abandonment and
gratitude, of creaking doors opening,
being greased, becoming and becoming,
you could be the one we’ve been
discussing, or we could be discussing
philosophy. Of abandonment, of
structured, thoughtful abandonment, dripping
pieces away one by one until what
remains but a subtle shuttle, journeying
into space on the remains of fuel
from earth. All encompassing escape
leaving loneliness behind and drifting,
sweetly, towards the replacement: solitude.
Something ancient and profound in the silence
of new space, drifting, vacuum, I
take in the non-air & recognize it
is a separate fuel, more or less sustainable,
if I can only train my body
to use the oxygen of the stars,
the atmosphere has been shed,
the hunger loosed among 1,000
distant beasts, that first daring
gasp, eclipse, that filling up
with the void, philosophy, that
great and unencumbered prowling night.
