What do you do?

What do you do?

I am infinite winds and raindrops falling in all directions.

I am each prophet caught between warning and uncertainty, DOING what summarises best, and seeing how others continue. 

I am the DOING that arises out of BEING, the action on the wave of becoming, that is still connected to the sea.

I have all the same functions as every one of you (with some exceptions, because ableism is easy to assume), in our universality, and live so these can best happen as they should.

I am the seamless thread running through notions of work, play, rest and recuperation, the Tao beyond and including yin and yang.

I am the pause between each of the words in your sentence, because words create a sentence, and the real magic is beyond abracadabra, and through the silence within, the great escape. Houdini, Whodunnit, How do you do?

I am the symphony of what is essential in an open-hearted WIDTH, and that which parses that which is not. 

I am the ashes dissolving into air and becoming the sky. 

I am where the finite and infinite meet in the horizon-line.

I am flight of birds, and the cud which cows chew, the invisible lines which mark boundaries through scent of piss, and the flickering of television, static on the radio waves, and the break in Wifi coverage. Seize the moment!

‘What do you do?’ is the question which must be asked repeatedly and repetitively, to every atom and cell and part and parcel of existence, since this is the hardest path, the most difficult of tasks, and if you expect any answer untouched by paradox, and stripped of any sense of irony, absurdity or wry smiles, then you SHALL be sorely disappointed, for here in eternity, we are free of binding concepts and insufficient answers, and are ALWAYS happy (if those are shed), but see little evidence of change, as the ships slide towards doom and destruction. 

And so it shall be, unless another path is chosen, and that is what we do - we CHOOSE and know not whether there was any choice, now we are here. 

From the scattered wreckage, seeds of potential, oases of survival and summits of perfection, we will rebuild a new world, and the air will be as fresh as the freshest morning you have tasted, and you always knew this world was possible, because it is the mark through which you judge that which must disappear.