how many blue trees

How many blue trees have you seen recently ? If not blue then what colour were they? If not trees what colour were they? If not trees then what were they?

I cannot answer these questions appropriately. Firstly, I need time to think this over. Secondly, yes, secondly, but first I would need time to think this over and only then will there be a secondly.

That’s right. Take as much liberty with yourself, with reason and unreason as you can.
Something you haven’t really done in the past. For you were busy with so many other things, so many other things such as repressing yourself, judging yourself, hampering yourself, coping with yourself, indulging with yourself.

We have mostly erred in the past, this much we know. This much knowledge we share, this much is our common heritage, common denominator, common whatever…Yes, this much we know. There is no way we are going to relinquish this. Our common denominator, that which cannot be subtracted from us if we are going to remain what we are. But what are we, who are we, who is asking these questions, where we are, why are we where we are, why is there something instead of there being nothing at all, instead of there not being anything at all, or in whatever form it was the question was first formulated, the question of there being something instead of nothing, there being someone out here to ask the question instead of nobody. Had nobody been there instead of someone or somebody, or any one else, then we are pretty much sure he or she would not have asked that question. Nobody would certainly have prayed, or sang or sighed instead of asking questions, even if it be the primal, essential question .

The inevitable flow, the inevitable flaw. How beautiful, how beautiful of you flaw to flow so flawlessly…….At this point, at any other point, we refuse to get stuck, not so much refuse, prefer not to, prefer to flow, prefer to run, prefer to enter the stream, enter the stream with the full moon swimming across the river, prefer to enter the watercourse way, with or without the full or any other moon gleaming from above, or, covered by layers of clouds, still gleaming from above, as ascribed in texts both ancient and modern, suffering no contradiction at this point.

Even now, even now that it is getting so late, even now that we are reduced to speaking and toiling with just a few foreign words, a few foreign words, now ours as if they were really ours, mother’s and all, father’s and all, just as if they were ours, mothers and fathers and all. Which they unmistakably are although there is no apparent scheme where they could fit. For he who does not possess anything cannot be dispossessed of anything, right? But where does this take us? Question mark. Lets see! Where do we go from here, from here that is from being completely dispossessed and feeling that not having anything, be it a few words illicitly taken from some tribe, horde of savages all in the beginning, just as much as now, of words we are using right now before your eyes, or is it before your ears, supposing you have eyes, ears, supposing that you actually are, do really exist, and suppose you do, that we do manage to reach out to your eyes, your ears, or your whatever with which you hear, see or exist, or whatever, suppose that we ourselves exist and really do reach out to one another.

Me seeing for you, hearing for you. You seeing with my eyes, not really seeing with my eyes, but as if you were seeing through my eyes, as if I were somewhere say not just for my myself but for the both of us, for the three of us, all of us for that matter, for if the one is not contained then it is too late, then it is simply too late and we will have to face the inevitable outcome of seeing numbers run through infinity with nothing to stop them. With nothing to stop them anymore.

Back and forth through infinity. Comet-wise. Which is the wrong way of putting it. While waiting for the right way of putting it putting it the wrong way. Which is better, I have been asking myself lately, putting things wrongly or not putting them at all? Leaving them as they are. I realise at this point, something I have also realised in the past but unfortunately forgotten, that which makes me move on or which makes me pretend to move on. I don’t know which is more in keeping with the reality of things, I don’t know now nor have I ever known very much, not even a little for that matter, that or for any other matter, keeping in touch or pretending to keep in touch with the reality of things. Don’t know what matters. No, I can’t say I’m pretending. No, I can’t say I’m not pretending. Its always a little too far away from me, the assertion, the contention, the judgement, the reasoning. Not that far away when you come to think of it, if you come to think of it, just a little bit, just a fatal little bit too far for you to see things as they are or as they seem to be for you to be able to say once in a while, even once will be more than enough, yes, thank you, once would be more than enough, for you to say to yourself or to someone else, to anybody, which comes down to the same thing, yourself or the other, yourself the other and all the others, brothers arm-in-arm, yes, to all the others: there we were, so far we have come, here we stand, and while we are standing, if its true that we are standing and not actually wavering, slipping into unsteadiness, we do know for we have been thought, no, not that, for we have learnt, no, not that, we have been thought or we have learnt or whatever, we know better right from wrong or something like that.

Not the truth but something like it. Something like knowing that even if we have come from nowhere and are going nowhere, supposing we haven’t reached our destination, which we secretly feel we have, we have reached it in so far that we have never left it, we have never left it in so far that it could in no way have suffered to see us go away, going away as if there ever was a way, not to say anything of our personal, individual way, as if we could stand on our feet and just walk away.

It is time to go. It has always been so. Time for the lingering to stop. For the addiction to end. Time for you and me to descend the stairs and open the door, or shut the door. First open then shut the door. If it be not the other way round. Its always one way then it’s the other. There is always a possibility for the discourse to continue, for the word to go about its ways even if, and especially if they are upside down as they appear under such questionable light to some of us lately. But what are we to do with it? Nothing. We cannot change ourselves and we cannot change the world even though we came here initially thinking ourselves not only capable but invested with the mission of accomplishing both. If not both then at the least one. If not completely then to a certain extent. That does not seem to have been the case lately. We better go about doing other things. Like what? How do I know! Anything will do. We could go about doing anything just as long that we do or we try to do or we pretend to do something instead of not doing anything. Sometimes we have to retreat into madness as the sole possible way of escaping the madness of the world. The world is really maddening. Maddening in more than one respect. What does it matter if it’s the heart that has gone mad or if its the mind. If we suffer from what they call Gemütskrankheiten or if its Geistskranheiten that is having the better of us. Well, it could be argued that were it the former then we would have a little chance of regaining or recuperating in one way or another some initial form of the primal image that shaped us.

Early morning winter sun still not risen above pine-crested hills. For the sun to come. Time for the sun to come. Here sleep does not attend the sleeper. Here we are left out in the middle of nowhere. Here, we don’t know how far we have come. Wither we are going. Here, weighs on us as we try to reckon what a possible measure to gauging things would be. Here weighs heavily on us that for which we have no measure. That which we cannot name. Where words fail silence would be the next best thing if not the best. It could certainly be rest. If it be true silence. But for that we have no name. At best we can try to remain with what is left of us, remain with the rest of what is left of us. Which is always solitude.