That second time, by the road in the rain. Watching the slipping tyres. Watching the drops in lines of three and four attack the earth. Unstopping. That time it was hopeless, no way there but to do it and persist. Get wet. Get dry. Get through it.
And this time. In that new place, by the edge of it all. Thinking about the impact it all has. The stretch goal. The targets and achievements for more and more of what? This time it is worth it? This time it is any different? And the core of the apple.. The rotten, stinking flesh that surrounds it. The real problems. The real agendas that just about get through the dirt. The ones that matter. They wait.
And it will buzz again. Like a wake up call after a wake up call. Get up. Constantly with you. Constantly checking in. In touch. Holding you. Controlling it all. Just keep yourself there. In the mix, in the firing line. It is hotter that way.
Turn it up. Here the crackle. Get inside it. You remember how this goes. The things you did and need to do. The agenda. Don’t run away with it. Let it in. Let it control or take it.
The lists of things. The next after this one which followed the one before. We remember that call. We remember that need to do without the lists.
And we think of the impact. The effect we have on a nothing world. A worthless effect. No return. No result. A Null value. This massive null value. An infinite loop. A feed machine. And we just digest the fat while spewing our resources into the mix. You wan’t sugar? You have taken it all. It is all gone now, down into that hole. That result is done. The unlimited. The unending. This machine is walking free in every direction. Following the carrot. Gobbling up the goodness and giving back squat.
And when you decide there is only the 10% left the race gets thinner and faster and longer and harder.
Then you decide to fix it after the race is lost. Then you bring the water and tea. Then you bring the skies and the rain. Then the heat flows cold across your face and waters the eyes. Every morning that should happen. At every instance it should be possible.
And now there is not enough time. And now there is no other way than to direct through pieces of paper with protocols and the letter of law. We follow in its directive. One to fit all except for that. Exceptions.
Then we decide how much is enough and where too much gets involved. I will just pick this but you want that… and we hit new times. Hit new highs. Hit deeper and stronger.
It must all be possible. It must all be possible.
And yet the creativity they flaunt comes slow and hard. Like a thick tar on the brain it drips ever so slowly to the fingers. Complaining of time and cramped conditions. None of this. Just create. They say create. They do. They find out. Just play. Like now.
The big letters. The written script. The honed materials and broken shards of glass and metal. Rusted emotions. The expressions of a rational thinker. The rational thoughts of an expressive artist. Yet one and the other compared and contrasted. And the last ones lost to a comfortable lunch and a sit down. A break.
And we are all late. Every one of us. The team. And we will fix it. Because nothing is the end of the world ever. Nothing.
A fireball streaks across the sky. Everyone is now involved. And the chase goes on.
Silence from across the channel. Waiting for connection following the tough call and hard edge. Everyone is apologetic. Nobody knows why. At least not yet.
Two lanes across from a cleaners. Lights on, detected through beaded panes, slipping down the glass by way of least resistance. They join in bubbles of warm yellow glow, and every so often the green halos turn yellow, and red. In that moment the door opens and another is released, bags slapping off the corner of the door as they escape before the valve is shut again. Too many bags. An expensive day. The boots and bags hurry left towards the edge of this room. Of this view. And the halos turn green again. And the view is obscured… the beads in focus once more. The only still entity.