The Three Thousand

How many nails does it take to fasten down an argument? Three thousand.

How many grains of sand to fill a thimble? Three thousand.

How many blades of grass to settle you down for the night? Three thousand.

What number of clouds need to pass your horizon before you realise you ain’t never coming back? Three thousand.

How many rides must you take to know that not matter how many rides you actually do take, you will never truly get anywhere? Three thousand.

Taking pills and realising your body is getting addicted. When does this happen? After three thousand.

How many times to go around the block hoping that she / he / it might just come back and realising that is not going to happen? Three thousand.

Three thousand avengers, students, stuff crammed hopelessly down your sofa. Three thousand sheep, male strippers, internal investigations determined to find your solution to your dripping, falling lines. Three thousand echoes of a past forgotten, a dream exploded, a lust exposed. Three thousand generations hoping that the next will be happier, more prosperous, more fulfilled. Three thousand outlaws, outriders, groupon deals, overdone burgers, missed opportunities, fallen angels, great balls of fire, slightly off notes and the inevitable exposé of his altercations.

Click. Click. Click. How many blips do you need to post before your realise your voice is just another in the orchestra of life that continues to cry out to be heard? Three thousand. Three thousand. Three thousand.

A X