Surface Tension

“The surface tension of water is 72 dynes/cm at 25°C . It would take a force of 72 dynes to break a surface film of water 1 cm long.”

Sometimes the fear in creating is the fear of destruction and that, in and of itself, is a very difficult fear to overcome.  And, more importantly, the idea that it needs to be overcome must surely be a weird one. The power to create having been misappropriated can, and often has been used to bring about mass emotional and physical damage. And, in understanding this we understand that this fear, while crippling, might be necessary. So we hang onto out fear and search the world for ways to be free of it. We free ourselves of everything but ourselves.

Then even when we use this power we realize that we are slowly erasing ourselves; becoming smaller as the words leave the space that they used to occupy inside ourselves. A math problem presents itself: If Tap A can empty a container at a speed 17 gallons per introspection and Tap B can fill the same container and the rate of 6 drops per abstraction, how many iterations of Top B need to exist for the container to maintain perfect balance on the pin; which is 0.00000000000000001% of the total surface area of the base?

But math has never been a poet’s strength. And, even when it is, it is somehow convoluted. As if somehow following the path of some numbers just as a path is not something that comes naturally to the numbers themselves.

You find yourself becoming less.

And lesser still.

It is only decided as something that you can see in fleeting moments. It is not something that you like and a thing that you know as if somehow knowing is admitting power. As if knowing that you are drowning adds fuel to the waves.

The ocean rages hard around.

Louder than itself but, somehow smaller than you.

(Master, they were heard crying, the tempest is raging, the billows are tossing high, this is the beginning of the end of the beginning of the end of the beginning of the end of the end of the beginning)

Peace refuses to be still. Still peace becomes a thing that is chased further than it can be found. Running away from the peace that we seek we are instead lost inside ideas of peaceful imposition. Wars birth wars birth wars birth wars.

Janelle Monae asks “do you know who you’re fighting for?”

Still your sword remains stuck in its sheath. Your eyes are bloody. Afraid to brandish and fight.

Afraid to fight – what an interesting thought to admit.

The world seems daunting. Everybody is growing into a hard cold adult and you just seem to be getting more fragile.

(you watch yourself becoming less)

As if you’re a mysterious version of the curious case of Benjamin Button.

(Benjamin Button is a mysterious version of the curious case of Benjamin Button)

So you then find yourself hanging onto words that make this seem like something that is cool. “they say I’m going crazy but I’ve been here before, but I’m going pretty good as far as geniuses go” – Kanye. You’ve been taught against vanity though you’re not sure what vanity exists in claiming intelligence. There is a thin line between intelligence and claiming different capacity. To imagine yourself as more capable would be weird because capacity is equally divided.

But even with singularity of capacity is the question of whether capacity is singularly applied (both voluntarily and involuntarily). But you’re tired of thinking of this question. You need more taps to have the capacity to keep pouring until an answer reveals itself but the weight is pressing upon the pin and the head of the pin is slowly penetrating your base.

Pain is only real if you can feel it.

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