The sun has come up again
DERRICK MERDY·THURSDAY, AUGUST 4, 2016
Time is flowing backwards... Can I follow it? Back to that time? Our time? Even in a dream?
Afterwards comes only confusion, a trancelike dream within a dream. As I wake, I know that the confusion is washing through the waves of my lifetime. The significance of a life, of eternity, waits in the midst of that trance.
The sun has come up again. The moth has disappeared, whether or not it still lives. I want to clarify the lines of the dream, to make them distinct, follow them back. I want to retrace he path in writing, putting it down honestly. If there were nothing in our lives to be ashamed of, how would we judge them?
The moth has died. Whoever feels responsible for the brevity of its life has the right to censure the path it took in its solitary flight.
The light is hitting me straight on, shinning straight into the bottom of my heart. I float in its color, leaving this noisy, dusty world. I seize the inspiration and take up pen. In another moment I might change my mind
