A traffic jam this morning meant taking side streets to work. Instead of a high speed nod of acknowledgement, I had a slow sashay past the memorial park that no longer resonates with me. Out of curiosity, I took advantage of the posted speed limit sign to drive slow enough to look sideways a little closer at the cemetery.
It was empty.
It was empty the way a sinkhole is empty.
It wanted to be filled.
As I drove past the formal entrance, I felt something reach out from the unspace that bounded its emptiness towards me. The eye that sees is the eye that is seen.
«Fill me!»
I made a gesture only my instinct knows and only my instinct remembers as I decided the total cost of a speeding ticket would be less than anything I would have to pay to free myself from that insatiable hunger.
The uncries of the cemetery quickly faded as the intervening distance increased. I slowed down to a reasonable speed once I saw I had passed the source of the jam and could get back on the freeway again.
I have no idea what broke the link between this local cemetery and the non-local entities I used to feel there. I do know that what is there now is far above my pay-grade and it would be better if I left local affairs to the locals.
I’m not worried about driving past it again on the way home as the freeway is far enough away that the locality bound thing can only roar at me.
My curiosity has been satisfied enough for now.