Two: Breathe. When sky-full, look down.
Three: Do you see stars?
One: Don't look down yet.
Two: Breathe. When sky-full, look down. Three: Do you see stars?
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Before me rests an open book,
its pages lifting lightly in the draft like wings. Behind me, up on the wall, hangs a ticking clock, watching the room with impassivity. I imagine it regards me with just a little more interest as I allow myself one breath, and a small, patient smile. I look up, after a swath of time, to see a hint of smile on the face of a friend, the only fault in his feigned impassivity. In turn, I pretend a reluctant breath, closing my book -- a new one by now — and then we are off like a thing with wings, soaring down the long hallway as if to beat the clock. On afternoons like these we ignore the clock as it coils in on itself like a knowing smile, choosing instead to measure time's stretching impassivity with each new, bursting breath. That way, at least, each second does not seem etched so firm in the great book that Fate skims through as she walks (if she ever once had wings, they were bound and broken long ago). Now the wings of a hurricane of pigeons rise up around us, beat the air into a collective breath as we run right off the page of the book. We forget the face of the clock, and share an invincible smile in the face of the universe's grand impassivity. There is a new impassivity about him now, like a closed book. His lips wear a cooler smile I do not recognize. I think it is missing its wings. I can just hear... tick-tock goes the clock in the inhale-exhale of his breath. I hear my own breath coming more quickly as I turn from him, like the hands of a clock, and begin to run. I do not know if he follows, but now I am flying on wings spurred onward by the memory of that smile, and the detail in which my mind renders it with such traitorous impassivity. I stumble to the ground across the last line and close the book. I turn the pages of the book with a new impassivity. I know I won't find him there, but I keep his wings safe for him anyway. With enough cycles of the clock, I expect even that will change. I take a breath, but I do not smile. I like to travel sometimes, in my mind,
Shut out the world, fall back upon unknown. Fragments of stories all come in to line, I walk through the frames, surrounded, alone. I pass an island city, bridges cross The tide. A broken tower falls in time, In song suspended – Was it worth the cost? The White Ship sails on secrets never mine. I need no navigator; all streets spell My name. I need no translator; the words All etched upon a time, inside a cell. Inside your eyes I blaze above the birds, Yet there are times I worry I'll lose track Of whence I came, and never find my way back. Emerging from the stories like a blazing spark of fire,
Comes a knight in shining armor with nothing but desire. Desire to fight, to win, To claim his maiden prize. He wears a mask of justice But greed is in his eyes. Another beast slain, another princess won. Another crown another throne Another kingdom to be run. He walks with pride And power in his stride. And all before him bow at his feet. But though he wears his golden crown, The higher he soars, the farther he’ll come crashing down. Available in the Other Side of the Story. A golden flower
Blooms. The silver forest stares up at moon. The bright sunshine Song. The light that was hidden now is gone. An ancient spirit’s Power. Our destiny lies with a flower. Available in The Other Side of the Story. What whisper cool your story began
When the garden dreams of light. And see them glow to understand The music in the misty night. The truth she leaves behind in song Floats up in blue balloons. For when rain walks over sea The night begins the moon. Available in The Other Side of the Story. Face as warm as day
But heart as cold as night. Not to be trusted after moon’s first light. For after dark When the moon shines bright And the wolf bane blooms He loses sight Of what is wrong And what is right. And off he runs Into the night. And won’t come back Till dawn’s first light. Available in The Other Side of the Story. As the elephant marches.
As the locust flies. As the eagle soars with fiery eyes. A ship sets sail through stormy seas. Out of its wake, a dolphin flees. Birds take flight into clouded skies For everyone knows what bides its time Under the earth For years gone by And now they’re waking, ready to fly. Available in The Other Side of the Story. Dark figures creep down alleys
And the moon was shining bright. She walked through creaking houses’ walls And the moon was shining bright. The monster growled through rotten teeth And the moon was shining bright. But when darkness overpowers day The moon will still bring light. Available in The Other Side of the Story. A curtain unfurls
Off a gateway between worlds. One is black, one is white. The difference between wrong and right. One means swimming, One means flight. Which world do you choose? Can you bear to lose All you hold dear All you treasure here? And you decide To stay behind. The curtain’s closed, You’re out of time. Available in The Other Side of the Story. |