A Conversation with My Brother

Hello, brother. You've seen the silence of the eternal. Where there's no step back. Where there's only forward, and no one coming the other way. Where the blurred faces of passersby, dissolving in the fog of doubt, disappear — I feel it on my own skin. Generation after generation. Generation, generation… The metallic taste of incandescence. Inspiration, revelations, the inevitable lightness of the ending. You know, brother, out there an endless current pours down onto wise heads. We're allowed to leave our mark on eternity. We've smelted tin down into lead. What's been proven is meaningless now. What's been built is now torn down. Free thought has been devalued. The borders of our ideals have been broken. We've grown sick of each other already. Nervously, we wait for an icy silence. Waterfalls of words have poured out of us from exhaustion and inattention. I wish I could lay my soul out on the bench by the wall, to let it thaw in the sun. Like a little stream across the fields, however small, made of cold, fresh spring water.