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| 11:18am 28/02/2006 |
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mood:  hopeful (again)
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All things fall to the shore where we once sat, blue-tinged, marking an end. The air that night was thick with truth; the waves quietly awaited their turn to wash us away. We were deep down under the trees, and I remember being moved thoroughly by each stirring, starry breeze. Your father’s fireside music lit up like laughter the dreams and the futures lying tired in the grass.
What was so alive about that night, so unforgettable? I thought then mostly about the unbearable heat of June, of evenings full of parks and baseball. I remember when you first showed up at my door with your friends. You came to say hello, but seemed to reveal all that’s ever been.
It was a season of nights and colors, of recognition of the achingly beautiful. I’ve since ventured to climb the mountain, to go up where the air is thin and clean. There followed a time of pondering and hermitage, an hour in which to question the roots of the earth. It all seemed flat and simple, and I was lead unquestioning into the heart of winter.
But seasons change, and the empty, lonely summit air filled with clouds. The lines between the sky and I did blur, and there so far from the now obscured ground, I forgot some of the secrets. They dropped unheeded from my thoughtless hands, and still I sat, ignorant of their tumble to the earth’s feet.
All I had left then to forget was myself, and so I drifted, alone above the trees. I met the Sun then, with her smiling eyes. She was much quieter up close, and much older. She was so cold and pale as to disappear at times, though she always filled the air. I thought then that I was nothing but light, but my unwatched body, stretched outward, dropped too, and fell the many miles through the clouds to the soft and mossy beach bellow.
There I slept in the dark, thoroughly broken. It was an evening of weeks, an age of sweet and mindful stars. I opened my eyes to orange and green and blue, and it was a true and living dawn. My pale old friend was blushing at all that she’d remembered. As I breathed – slowly, like an ancient machine- I smiled at the birds perched on my hands and feet and the roots that grew into my hair. Slowly, imperceptibly, I sat up, and watched. Beneath the sky there, down at the very edge of the water, the children were awakening, stirring, bathing, and laughing in the morning, and I remembered life. |
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Read 3 - Post |
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_greengrass