I turn the corner down the street.
I wave to Ayn, she is pert, dismissive, pinched. We smile daggers and exchange pleasantries, blow for blow.
The asphalt turns beneath my feet.
I push the earth along its axis with each step.
I asked him how this was, Atlas shrugged.
The corner dead ends, a wide birth aborted suddenly, I make no judgements of the path,
My jogging suit is a revelation. My stride is impeccable.
My hair, irrefutable.
My eyebrows arch and descend with such grace that women falter at the slightest punctuation.
I am undeniable.
This day is mine, and I conquer it with power walk.
You never realize you’re falling.
You reflect upon it in the aftermath.
You recall the moment before, when everything was innocent, when your left foot believed that it would find purchase upon the sturdy asphalt of its predecessor,
And you remember the moment after,
When suddenly the dogma of order
was betrayed, and your faith in the static principalities of up and down was shaken.
The inadequacies of the human brain, with its faulty, temporal faculties,
and the ego centric modus, submerged in self pity,
engaged in the criminal investigation of blame, the indignation of hurt,
is therefor blinded by chatter
distracted by conspiracy
too deeply concerned to have noticed the miracle.
That brief, precious moment when you were patriot to no nations of earth or sky, when gravity forsook her bonds a breath, and crowned you king of a sovereign freedom.
What will they say to know she couldn’t see where the road was ending?
Perhaps she knew the route too well, perhaps her mind was scuttled by onus, or perhaps the world is hungry and the fissure’s maw opens where it may to swallow you, unaffected by your plans, unswayed by your vain understandings, your pleas, or your threats.
She doesn’t know. The unknown is digesting her now, eating away at her figment future, the decay of her goals, arrested, words lost.
What do you do when there is no one to blame? Congratulate fate on its bitter victory over your fortune, or rather shake hands with the devil of another name? Make friends with destruction, knowing the vicious wisdom that his true nature is not as it seems, that the twin extremes of destruction and creation are in reality simply the balancing principals of Change, evolution, the nature of mankind, the universe. Chaos and Construction, the A-Bomb and the evergreen, ransack and cul de sac.