in that order.
It's always cherry. No matter how old it gets it's always in
mint condition. No matter how many years it's been here, it's always
It never requires restoration, patching, buffing, or polishing.
It doesn't deteriorate. It never ages, never decays, rusts, decomposes,
oxidizes, or breaks down. It's just here. It'll always be here.
Always. Always mint. Perfect. Pristine. Immaculate. Impeccable. Like
It never shrinks or fades. It doesn't matter how familiar it is: it's
always intriguing, always presenting a new facet, a new face. There's
always an original cut which hasn't showed up before -
ever - even though it and all its facets have been showing up millions
and millions of times over and over again throughout the millennia.
It shines and gleams, its deep warmth
its newness so accurately, so intensely, so perfectly it's
impossible to distinguish its existence from what it creates. Nothing
is too small or too big to be excluded from its realm of
re-create-ability. It's smaller than the smallest atoms,
electrons, and quasars. It's bigger than the universes and the
galaxies. Yet no matter how it looks when viewed from either ends of
its continuum, everything else relative to it is always in scale,
always in correct perspective.
It serves yet it rules. It defends compassionately yet triumphs
aggressively. It dies with the melting of morning dew yet outlives all
of time. It gives soft kisses to wake the world every day. It brings
cataclysms and armageddons to reduce the world to dust. And it does
both with the steely eyed smile of cosmic indifference.
It may be the most - if not the only - generous giver.
Everything starts with it. Everything comes from it. And in the end, it
claims everything back. It goes through dizzying changes, completely
rearranging its constitution every nanosecond. Yet it allows itself to
endure and remain present in forms which can be appreciated, in shapes
which can be seen, in objects which can be touched. And while it's
doing exactly that, it has the chameleonic ability to
blend in so totally with its own manifestation that it's not seen. It's
absolutely invisible - yet it's all that's there in the all and
everything. And in its disappearing wake is the mystery, the
open faced, open booked un-mysterious mystery of where it went
and / or how this all got here in the first place.
It's my Friend. It's the first Friend I ever had. Now, nearly half way
through this great adventure of being here, things have changed.
People have come, people have gone, things once important are now
forgotten and insignificant. And what I see when I look around now is
it's my Friend who's still here. Others have come and gone but my
Friend's still here. Still standing. Still standing with me. Still
standing for me. Still none the worse for wear, still
smiling the steely eyed smile of cosmic indifference even brighter now
than ever. Unphased, unscratched. Pure. In mint condition.