Just a few more days. If I can hold out for just a few more days then the minutes carrying me up to that moment will be forgotten. I keep telling myself that. I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. I’ve been here before, sat in this very same chair. I’ve watched and witnessed an eternity of failed attempt’s pass by. Nothing ever changes. Not even the name.
The Traveller sat dumbfounded. How was it he had managed to become lost in such a familiar world. The directions and landmarks had been worn like an old cow trail into his brain. Yet for some reason he had managed to make a misstep. The Traveller had become lost. Standing in one place and waiting for a rescue was not an option. Panic wasn’t an option either but it was going to be.
“What the fuck…”
Pat sat disinterested in the menu before him. The choices were many but the flavors they offered bland. The same old thing with the the same old spices. Pat was sick of the choices. Pat was ready to go somewhere new even if new was some greasy meal wagon in the slum side of town.
“Change would be worth a case of the shit’s’.
The Sage sat tensely in his seat. His body rigid, head bowed, forehead covered in sweat. On occasion the old scholar would let out a low groan, then catching himself making the noise, he would shift uneasily in his seat and clench his hands in pain. Before him sat a book opened to a grotesque drawing of the large intestine. A bookmark dutifully protecting his place.
From one of the dark and disembodied corners of the room a familiar voice was muttering.
I have been here always. Knelt before the same wooden altar. Bathed my mind beneath the ever shifting light of stained glass. I have read and pondered the stories that remain framed within those panels of glass.
They are glittering jewels that dazzle the eyes. Drawing the mind into the inner light that radiates out filling the void of the room beyond. Marble floor with the patterned grain of darkened stone tracing out it’s ancient markings from time long lost beneath the sea. Here in quiet remembrance the candles burn, and none but I know why.
The Watcher sat just beyond the doors of the great hall. The large metal rings which had been fastened as the doorhandles and knocker lay flaccid against the ancient wood. Their immense diameter and thickness making anyone’s hand look childishly small. No one as far as the Watcher knew had ever tried the rings to gain entrance to the rooms beyond. He had though witnessed the rare occasions when those within had swung open one of the doors to come out. Usually they emerged suddenly and in silence. The great doors hinges effortlessly giving way, and then with little effort reversing back to the closed position. It was during those random moments the Watcher was able to see the doors construction. Thick as a man’s forearm, and framed with metal bracing within. Definitely stout enough to slow any intrusion of people or sound. As for the room beyond it was shrouded in an eternal darkness, but at the distant end one could just make out a sparkling of jewels upon the floor and a dazzling wall of colored light. The Watcher imagined that between the brilliant glitter of jewels and blinding light a dark figure knelt silently. Any certainty on exactly what lay at the far end was to never be known by the Watcher. Some places he knew well enough to stay clear of. It’s just the way it is.
My mind wanders back to the day I sat watching the slow drifting mirages dance across the hot valley floor. Almost as a dream a desert goat appears munching on dry twigs and leaves. I silently watch as she moves on. Just like the petroglyph that lies close beside me of a goat and the blazing sun. Time immortal, I understand what life is about.
It has been a very long time since I sat staring out the coffee shop window. The last time it had been a rainy day just like today. A full blown gully washer that causes the culverts to back up. On a day like today everything definitely floats down there…
The sky is just one solid sheet of Paynes grey. No white clouds to mark a boundary between the blue above.
Just me and the rain going about or days unchanged.
“I’ve been here before. Sitting in this same room, staring at these same four walls, relaxing into this same old chair.”
The Watcher smiled. It had been a very long time indeed.
There isn’t time to say hello Nor will there be for long goodbyes Even now cobwebs creeping threaten weary eyes The tide ceaseless carves away Each wave claiming more of the day Leaving only to return in the night Man that is good was often just as evil So choose your way and be just and nimble For we all await the somber gavel And He that bears witness on judgement day
I am … The rustling of the autumn leaves which hang tight for now amongst the maple and oak The borderland at the far edge A small stack of stone piled up along the imaginary lines of a map Even the rill filled trickling down between root and rock Sparking gentle reflection beneath half shadows of this wilderness before seeping down Disappearing into the land No one cosmopolitan will understand this simple satisfaction of a season And the acceptance of the passage of life Before we go our way
To what value do I set the scale With incremental movement a clock measures out moment by moment But that has no existence The vapor and steam of things unseen Passively touch then dissolve And yet you and I watch it’s coming pass us by Left in the wake that follows We reach out as if to hold invisible threads of thought Something unattained in the passage of life And burdened by our own purpose Feel fulfilled or utterly emptied by the experience
There in a blue room Yellow light flows across the firmament A silver glimmer promises hope just outside the door Desperation transitions between salvation and escape A butterfly flutters with each breath the body dies But the mind lives on Trapped Tethered to a waning moon
My flesh is burning The skin just falling away White fire blisters Boiling blood to steam Just need a little help now All attempts to extinguish the flame Ends up just spreading pain
I sat and watched a red faint wisp darting amongst the garden rose I had never seen here before such a gallant dragonfly dressed so well in scarlet robes I wonder what ill omen does he bring Complacent in my thoughts to leave the decision to chance and eternal spring For neither death or sickness care From whence such beauty may have flown I shall in my innocence not despair And wait to see what more I may find Here along this gardens path