We live in a world where everybody knows everything about everything. There is no longer a mystique to travel, to visiting places whose names evoke subtle perfumes and the colours of dawn, to adventure, to simply not having a clue. Neither have we aspirations of owning this or that because badgered parents have already bought us them by age eight and everything else is too expensive. Replacing our hopes and dreams, we are instead told exactly what we will like because so-and-so can confirm it, though who so-and-so is remains a mystery. We are devoid of possibilities because…
In the company of mirrors,
Through tactile taps,
Dissolving, we linger
In the memories of others.
This quicksilver separation
Stands to win no friends,
For beneath the silent surface,
We dance alone.
On reflection, this reflection,
Reflects badly on us both;
I would change it
If. the other allowed it.
I would. I would.
Almost is our watchword.
Almost is our game.
As in mirrors, we endeavour.
As in mirrors, we almost touch.
I thought I’d do my bit to promote some of the great books out there that might have got missed in the scramble for mass sales. I am very lucky to have an extensive book collection, (you can never have too many) and this is my way to help those who haven’t.
Choosing a book can be an intensely personal choice. I always pay careful attention to the cover, the first paragraph and the blurb. If any of these things are not to my liking, I’ll move on. …
I saw Her in the Moon, felt Her in the stars. As night fell each evening, a smothering cocoon of darkness pulling me beneath its obsidian comforts, I took a deep breath and dived into immortality. Every night the same. Every night unwanted.
The bane of forever weighed heavy on my heart. I sought death with the same determination as a seed the light, courted it even. Courage, however, was a trait I lacked, and although a smiling blade would have returned me there, another’s, or my own, the trickle of life running through me refused to succumb. …
There’s a coffee steaming on the table. I hate drinking alone, but you’ve got to do something to stay warm. Curlicues of dispersed heat rise like ghosts departing the dawn; I’m sure one winks. Another day begins with a slurp and a cough. This is my mantra. I’m crying again.
The Unlikely Ones
We were the layabouts, the lollygaggers, the free. Spirits of the woods given human form, we played amongst the cobwebs and danced amongst the stars. Nothing could contain us. Nothing! We were what the world should’ve been before it went bad. We despised society and pitied the many, applauded the dreamers and saluted the poets. This was our lives. This was our legend. For a while, anyway. For a while.
They came from the stars in military regalia, (that should’ve been the clue). They took everything from everyone but couldn’t take anything from us. We had nothing…
Sooner or later we all wish for something unattainable. Perhaps it is a form of self-punishment, an endless agony to prove we still feel? Nevertheless, as we cling to the fairytale with the tenacity of sharks a seal carcass, our eyes wide, teeth bared, we still hope for more. The shark by its nature knows no better. We do. But for us, it is harder to let go. At some point the shark will be replete, while our unattainable dream will persist gnawing at our very souls. This is the nature of the unattainable. Yet we may still find peace in the searching if our hearts are open and our eyes willing to see, whereas the shark will ever be swimming in circles. Such is life, an endless looping of food and thought.