The story you bring back begins with the death you wish to overcome.
You can’t please the god who shares your name.
He wanted, is wants.
She singing, is sung.
To be coveted, to covet.
The steepness of the descent goes unremarked. It is the climb only we are told of later.
Is waiting, waits.
Is journey, goes.
The story was too heavy to carry. He put it down and tried to go on without it.
Without it there was no path, no mountain, no wind.
Here, he says. Take this song from my burden. Sing it.
Who is walking, who is shining.
In order to care about what happens. In order to care about what happens we name it,
we try to give it up, we hover just outside the heart of it, the root of it, the story we meant to tell
for which we couldn’t find the words in any language.
The narrator has traveled a great distance. Is tired. Tries.
Carries a collection of objects which later will be all that is left of the song.
A blog written during the development of the work is available here.