Infuse, detonate, radiate. Sounds like a cycle. Like a beginning, a middle, and an end. Of energy.
Today, energy carries many meanings for me. I sort of miss the days when energy meant the strength to play after I had eaten; when I didn’t know it was just another name for what powered the screen I sat in front of to watch cartoons; when I didn’t understand that it was the same word for the thing that cooked the rice and beans I loved to eat. When I had no idea it was the same thing that made the maize and palms tall and green; when I hadn’t found out that it, energy, was the same thing that took a bullet to the head; that made September 11 an era-mark; that makes world leaders chameleons and elephants.
I don’t like those words any more than I hate them. They are just there: evidence of abuse, abuse from humans, humans without regulation, regulation from conscience- conscience not seared, seared to numbness, numbness and quietness.
Still they three form a cycle in nature, whether of knowledge, or of innocent energy, or of emotions… It seems that for many things that have some kind of limit there is the infusion first, then when a point is reached there could be detonation- depending on who holds the button. Then when he does push the button, whatever comes out, radiates.
Like the sun does. Like the atomic bomb does. Like love does. Like fear does. Like power does. Like knowledge does. Even sleep radiates, and we find that you can tell when someone behind you in the room has dozed off.
If I said, I shall soon detonate me for the whole world to hear, how would it sound?
I won’t say it anyway. But wait for it. I am coming. To push the button. To detonate me.