May Day is upon us,
Summer is commenced,

And I find I am strung out on existence again.
Hazy daydreams and nostalgic motifs
play out on the threshold of waking awareness,

in this quiet interiority.
These recurring scenes

of abandoned planets, weathered landscapes
and transmuted ecology, fading lithographs
by fallen civilizations, collective memories
become the sole providence of those few
moments, thoughts, wandering lights.

Questions to ask when difficult emotions arise: Am I in a process?
Am I being too ******* myself? Am I taking things too seriously?

"He called philosophy down from the heavens,
And placed it in cities, and introduced it even in homes,
And drove it to inquire about life", said Cicero, on Socrates.

The military is an olive tower.

Away from the rest of society
so long as the olive branch
remains unbroken; that
seems the position in
much of The West.

For it concerns The Absolute
extreme of human experience:
The incomprehensibility of war.
The imposition of will
to defeat an enemy, will which is

bound to the State,

I stopped running away from life, and started running towards it.

Going through my old school copybooks and notes,
The scribbles and drawings portray the mind
of someone ill-at-ease with the world,
Yet they summon odd nostalgia.

In the calm of the room, by the window's
fading sunlight, I leaf through
my secondary school biology experiment book

There are lines and references to Gordan Freeman
from Half-Life 2, and other art media of the time,
such as quotes from Heisenberg in Breaking Bad
and embarrassingly detailed instructions
and cost estimates for synthesizing MDMA.
Maybe it's for the best I didn't take chemistry.
Then again, the margins of my third-level notes
contain updates on darkweb marketplaces of old
as well as Anglo-Saxon poetry and Game of Thrones.

I wonder about my metaphysical health during these times
but make no judgements on fond memories
of old friends, home comforts.

Strange, these moments
from past lives.

Such power runs thru
cascading technology,

So driven is the word
spread thru comms networks
and uttered by multifarious devices;

Soon consumed
by feedback and
amplified until it

subsides for lack of dopamine, and then:
Soothed by new content a cascade begins again.
Socials can feel like a perpetual, unstructured interview
but think what a novel form of interrogation it is
and what a humane place this is become;

Yet some still hold to their crypt
over this brave new world
and the people in it.

Yesterday's analog echoes,
Today's digital samples,
Tomorrow's quantum timbre

will change how we hear ourselves
or determine our fantasies.

Thus passes a lifetime.

After a long break I feel refreshed,
I had been working such that
my focus was waning.

Semper amicis hora,
I must pray and work
with love, rhythm and change.

Each of our
human disciplines
seems to have their epistemic
crutch to lean on, whether it
be Science and objectivity,
Politics and democracy
Philosophy and truth,
Psychology and self,
Religion and faith,
Law and reason,
Logic and truth,
Poetry and
meaning,

We stray
from epoch
to epoch, from
paradigm, milieu
or scene to moments
we share Between Two
Worlds; we'll stand in time.