Sunday, January 23, 2011

eating hands

Then the mood settled in
Like the fog
And everyone missed everyone
Everyone of their past that they never let know
Everyone of their past that they hadn’t ever seen again
Everyone that you forgot
That you forgot you forgot
And they pop into your existence like flavors, reminders
Of what you already know

You missed them before you ever met them
You knew them ahead of their current name
You crossed paths in the dirt a long long time ago

And here you are in the 21st century in your penthouse, your dreamfogs, your candlecranes

And you do the long distance
You do the unthinkable
You let your self go
And you’re filled with trepidation
Ego filled sandwiches
That you hold onto
And stare at
And gnaw at
Like a bone
The bone filled sandwiches
Eating your own fingers
To survive

La Sultana Hotel, Marrakech 
(sweets and tea they offer you while checking in) 

ABOVE reminded me of a dream from when I was 13 and I was served a blackened hand on a tray.  It was chargrilled, plump and blackened.  This thing was to be eaten, on a pewter or silver dish, also kind of black.  It was dark out.  I was standing with someone else, male, and someone, another male came with this dish.  I looked in horror but hid the horror and did not eat the hand.  I didn’t touch it.  And something recently brought this dream of decades ago back to existence probably for good reason.  I will look into the meaning of eating hands.  Any ideas are welcome.

E. Kelly's Spiritual Journey on Life is a School:
"If you can't control what happens outside of you, control what happens inside.  After Job went through all his trials, you know, he was told that "thine own right hand can save thee".  Know what your own right hand can do."

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