THE TORTOISE AND THE HARE

Breathe

The air is full of hallucinogenics, creating a colorful collage of cancerous scenery to behold only for the lifetime of a breath.

See

Born into our photographic minds the melting pot of good and evil, confusing the two as temptation grasps our naive curious thoughts to elude truth into a, much too often, alluring and enticing trap of evil, only to spend the greedy hands of time untangling the tightly woven tapestry known as life.

Feel

Only to discover that reality is the hell we all fear. The testing ground for stable logical human beings to discover the pain and torture of trying to out-run the race of fate.

Like the tortoise and the hare…

Those who pace their lives too fast, experiencing a multitude of life, only to find that life beat them when they took their rest… Leaving them to hold onto a few memories, even then too vague and too forgotten… to end the race knowing nothing of their misfortune.

Those too slow possess many memories, detailed and dis-interesting. Fate draws the end in a slower fashion, in-storing their capable bodies with senile embryo-like capacities, bearing the physical shell to reign on in an extinct world where they become fruitless statuesque memorials for those starting the race to give thought to how they will pace the losing race.

 M Teresa Clayton

Written circa 1969