If the changes at work trouble me, it's because I haven't changed -- instead it has changed around me. If change is the only constant, then it's all castles of sand, existential, and striving is rendered absurd against the tides.
Yet the castles of stone stand, the temples are washed with the pure milk of faith, the blood of the fallen bear relevance, and the leaves in our books whisper words of the dead that never, ever change.
I want the castle, the heart preserved in warmest amber, a love of shining diamond, shared orgasm on a Möbius strip, consciousness indestructible, divine perspective, perfect peak apotheosis, and the forever & ever, forever amen.
A first kiss without end.
If the world is too busy eroding and dying and disintegrating in its constant change, I will write my permanence down, and one midnight someone will read my words, whisper my forevers into being once again, and raise me from the grave: whole, incorruptible, miraculous, constant.
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| [Guido Cagnacci (1601–1663), "Allegoria della vita umana".] |
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While a mostly happy bookstore fixture for over two decades, Guillermo Maytorena IV is currently willing to entertain your serious proposals for employment as a literary/cinema critic, goth journalist, castellan, airship pilot/crewperson, investigative mythologist, or assisting in a craft brewery. Should you be connected to any of the above or equally interesting endeavours, do contact him via LinkedIn or G+.
