Resting timE

We run, we gasp, we rest. We breathe, we inahle, we talk. We use, we replace... we recover. We drink, we get hung over. Its how it works... organic as it is.
We all need it. The pause. The punctuation mark at the end of the sentence. Rich people retreat to a Thai spa. Poor ones enjoy the nearby park. I go back to my parents house and write. All day long, practice the impractical wordy art. Like a free, impulsive amateur, I write.
I go to work, then I fall asleep... so do the other billions of human beings.
Then I wonder, if we all do this act-rest play out of our lives, what does the Earth do? does it ever rest? does it rest when its little inhabitants rest? does it snore out of the vocalno holes? are the closed waves of the sea her closed eye lids?
Do we even care? Horrible speedy selfish impacient humans.
Can we not give everyone and everything its resting time? I'll sleep when Im death, we say. What a lie.

And so I crawl back to the mother ship. And so the roots chase me across foreign streets. And so I get dragged back to the motionless resting place, the public nest, the common belief. We cease to fight. We close our eyes. We fall asleep. Its resting time, my dear.

azile