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12 October, 2010

Bomb Shelter: End days and Empire

I was around 15 or so, writing heavily as I did, then as I am now. When, again I had a premonition of sorts, a fantasy overtook me, as I forgot my poetry.

There I was, in my mid to late thirties. Stuck with a group of people, a few I remember, some I feel I know. I had my hand on the latter. Some one had to go up, risk looking outside. It was frustrating, especially because I already knew what would probably happen. But I was not yet resigned to it.

How long could we wait?

We could only hear heavy fighting, but no more. Anything could be out there. Occupation, nothing. The end of the world. An Escape. Someone had to do it, we had pressured ourselves that way, positioning was not accidental, someone has to be the one knocked into the ocean. And I was closest to the front. Like a plunge into water, I pushed my leg down and started the climb outward.

The "bomb" shelter was no more than a super-sized fuel tank, hardly any different from the ones people use to heat trailers. No way it would survive a blast, let alone anything atomic or bunker-busting. It was just something we ran into. Just big enough to fit fifteen.

I opened the hatch, and that's when I got it. Immediately, right in the head. (I am sure I touched myself as) I pulled out.

Was it true? Was this the future, a future? And for a cause, of this moment? Once, twice, in a life time, near twice and now half way away, almost now... has it passed, is it passing, are we there yet?

And Yet... and yet there is stillness here, can't you feel it, an essence like an entity moving... there is an anxiety... of ends and empire.

Are we (getting) ready?

Caption: "the secret that there is no secret is hardly a secret you know, more secret than the secret secret, 
it refuses to be divulged"---āglǣca. Above picture: Alan Watts.