an earth tone orchid spits out a tongue of purple, bucking disguise
Orchid [Haiku]
4
I walked along a well-worn trail with no intent but rest. I wished to be soothed by the trees, but found myself distressed. For in my path rested a snake, known as the copperhead -- a breed that has inspired wonder and no uncertain dread. I gave the snake full attention, and then gave it wide berth, but it must have been far too wide for I walked right off the earth.
The secret is... we're energy machines. This wild ride we're on is all about staying 98.6. The meaning of life might as well be 98.6. You work to make rent to be sheltered at 98.6. You go to the store for groceries to stoke the fires of 98.6. You put on your coat or slippers to keep yourself at 98.6. You go to the beach to warm to 98.6 & then sweat to drop back to 98.6. You take medicines when you're too far off the mark of 98.6. You turn on the AC to sleep at 98.6 & kick off the covers & drag the covers back & adjust the AC... all to sleep at 98.6. You may wish to be a flash fire of a million degrees, but life leaves you at 98.6. Some day you'll cool off and your career as Thermoregulatory Maintenance Specialist will be at an end & you'll be done with the trouble of staying 98.6.
Mad scientists are terrifying. Mad artists are reassuring (par for that particular course.) Mad mathematicians seem harmless enough, as long as he or she stays in his or her lane: the one with numbers and angles and sets. Mad Saints are the most hated & most beloved of lunatics. They serve as necessary examples -- not there to forcibly deprogram one, but to show that it's an option. One has the choice to be free, whether one has the will or desire to be - that's an open question. But those who sink the red pill must learn that in those waters thar be monsters. (If only those of one's own making -- i.e. Nietzsche's abyss staring back.) Voids can't gaze. Only that which one crams down its abyss-hole can do the gazing.
Night Mary by Rick Remender