Obsidian Affinity
Sometimes you've been so bleak that you conclude that there is too much tunnel and too little light. Then vicious and cunning Fate arranges a tryst so sweet and funny that you figure you will forgive her one more time for her unfathomable treacheries.
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Affinity is not on the Periodic Table of Elements. But it is elemental, yes, and sublime in its alchemies. There are all kinds of magnetisms that Science don’t scio, but something keeps the kaleidoscopic patterns of dust adhering to butterflies’ wings through storms. (Touch a wing carelessly and you can see how easily this could be smudged, gratuitously wrecked) – somehow in all our fond and fierce bashing of each other’s sensibilities, the patterns remain pristine, though changed. It is a magic. Obsidian humor. Ours is always an Orpheus and Eurydice story, though who is lost and who is found varies. The dark and the danger, the precipitous, the quicksand, the changes of danger – the flak of ancient stories, the skein of dreams waiting to be dreamt – the druids invented us and tell our tales, our infinity of affinities, in Faery.
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Mr. Pogblog, my fortune cookie says that there will be a publishesr at the end of your tunnel.
The hardest 'clutch' is between our daily K1 human experience where what one might loosely call promiscuity just doesn't work very well for the human liver (the original seat of human affections — the pump or the heart came on very late. Valentine's Day cards would be droller by far if we'd stuck with the liver. If I had to remark upon the probable 'truth,' I might have to pick the spleen . .). The tricky clutch to design is between the K1 heart and the more oceanic, less time-constrained experience which is pretty clearly less 'exclusive.' How we work that out as we gain layers of consciousness is one Fascinating Subject.
//Thanks for the kind fortune cookie, cl. Igualmente.