Contradictions are a necessary part of reality. Their pull and push builds the bridgework, tissue, weave, and wonder. Every element of this world contradicts with some other aspect.
It’s the reason you don’t fall through the sidewalk. Or the gravel layer beneath. Or the soil beneath the gravel. And on through the Earth itself.
It’s the reason I don’t blow away in this wind. Mass and energy. And here’s the thing about it: some elements do blow in the wind.
My words slip out, blow up; they get caught up, tossed. They soar.
It’s the wind saying, This is my voice, our voices in the air, for all times. All ears.
As the concrete says, I’ll hold you up if you continue to lay me down. Spread me, groom me. Patch me when I crack, and forgive my roughness when you fall. But do not worry, you will not fall out the other side. I am concrete. I am solid. And that’s a contradiction because you made me from liquid, powder, and empty spaces.
Artistry, dedication — love and need, indifference and commerce — it’s inevitable. You will fall, that’s a given. You’ll get up, dust off, and the wind will carry your words to the sky, or around the world.
Maybe, right here, those standing closest will not be listening; they won’t hear you. But wait for the whoosh.
On the other edge of the world, the quietest breeze will whisper your best to a total stranger. Concrete. Your words whipped up by the forever wind, telling your tale to unfamiliar ears, and you might not be understood. At all.
K. Shawn Edgar | One True Cog | Bunny Metal | Lion Head