When there’s no logic, that’s when you know you’re in someone else’s dream
-adrienne maree brown
Too often, I flew alone, other times side by side, or trailing behind, trying to keep up. Two points can never form anything complex, rounded.
I flew in artless lines, never part of a synchronized swirl, flew straight into the nothingness, the kind of decay and rot that metaphorically make a rich compost from which another life form can emerge, but I wanted more, to soar in beauty, moving in and out of the murmurating flock, interchanging places to let those on the vulnerable edge tuck in for a bit, reduce the speed, cover less distance, to share the protection, riding currents of air, swirling vortices of outstretched wing.
My emergent soul created not by me alone, but by the inexplicable spontaneous transformation of distinct parts, none of which carry the properties of soul, neither hydrogen nor oxygen is “wet”, yet combined and amplified they will become water where there was none, will swirl or pool, or rain down as a glorious compilation, so too I emerge from the distinct leaves and leavings, float now in a mesmerizing display, made up of every two point line, every edge to which I was pushed, every unrequited tuck and turn melded now into soaring dance, each black dot soul essential to the harmony that eludes single instruments, this is the symphony to which I’ve been inducted, this is the unannounced moment where you – and you – and you – tuck each other into the fold, undulate beneath and above me, together we float, ripple across the sky.