Fall in Their Place

It's a mystery to me
that no one seems to
think we have an
answer to the meaning
of life. Of course
we do. It's so well
understood that we
think we don't know,
but there it is
all the same.

We believe that
it's about history.

We believe that it's
about those who have
made distinctions
for themselves, on whose
back history is made.

We believe that if
we study history enough,
it will all make sense,
or at least, if we make
history ourselves, we
will have done even better.

We believe we can begin
to understand, to interpret,
to make things better by
correcting the mistakes
of those who came before us,
or perhaps to merely humble
ourselves, and accept that
they did it better.

In short, we are expected
to fall in their place.

In my view, it's more tragedy
than answer in my life. It's
a symbol of all that's wrong.

Fall in their place:

When we have recognized that
someone has done something
important, we are meant to
either deify or demonize,
because although we often
say it's better to see
in shades of gray we actually
prefer the colors black & white.
If we know their name, it
becomes all we can say,
like we are only parrots
in comparison, forced to
cede our place to them,
no place for ourselves, no
place to see but their shrine.

Fall in their place:

On the other hand, or because of,
we often find it difficult to
accept that anyone could
achieve something in the same
field as that person, that
what can be done has been done,
what could be said has been, despite
some rich tradition that already has
many names. But to add one more
is inconceivable, impossible, improbable;
what would be the point? What room?
It is easier to say that the new
is worthless, and invent many
reasons to say so, than to admit
there is some worth there, perhaps
the same, perhaps, heretically, greater.
But that's why there's history, because
the present doesn't always know
what it has (don't know what it's
got 'til it's gone, but then, we
like to misconstrue when we "do"
know), and then, history won't
know, either, 'cause it'll
got lost instead. Many a martyr
dies for this reason, a belief
in one's self. It's a secular
phenomenon. Jesus died because
he knew he had to. But it turned out
okay. If we remember.

Fall in their place:

History would be nothing without
all the little people who wait
to hear what to be told. We like
to pretend that we all rebels against
authority, but the truth is, most
of us just aren't. We formulate
neither what we like nor what we don't
but rather the calculation of what
someone else does, the arithmetic
of Joseph, the anti-life equation,
the variables that are always known
and jostled after. We claim
we don't like spam but there it is,
the stuff they teach in business school,
where they teach you you're better
than me, but can't explain why, a
snowball effect that consumes and supplies
a culture, supports society, and generally
defines history, but is nonetheless
the beast behind the machine, the ghost
that resides in the framework which we deny
but can't escape, the metaphysics
and economics, the puppet show where
we pretend we can't see the hand,
the rabble and the rabbits who run
and eventually rest, the human stain
and widening gyre, the strict forms
and counter-counter revolution, the gun plots
and powder, the pleads to remember, the howl
and leaves and bridge, the fair eidolon,
the two roads, the last lectures, the cannons
to the left and right, the canon that can
be argued, the white whale, the seven gables,
the Brothers Karamazov, the life of Pi,
the story of Edgar Sawtelle, the ode on
the Grecian urn, and all the things
that I've done, the shadows on walls
and age of mouldwarp, all soul and no soldier,
what to be done, what to be done?

Fall in their place,
that's all to be done,
all the meaning
and all of the fun.

Life's too perfect
to be lived in a bubble,
so take a bath with me,
and see how it's done.

We can take another one later.