Halfway from home (story reading)


Jasmine, and if he closed his eyes, the sound of the ocean. The smell though was always the strongest, it was what always clung to him. The ghost that gently haunted, touching his heart. It came and went, sometimes intense, taking him to that place where he always felt safe. Always felt them there.

He looked out of the window at the planet below, the strange orb spinning silently in its indifference to him. The purple hues lifted off the surface as if into a dream, blurring and smudging with the swallowing blackness of space.

Jasmine and warm sand….

Read on


Interstellar insights

The world opens, the moon shines down like a second sun.
Highlighting the scars of the earth.
I sense you and smell the enthusiasm.
Every day is mine to win, each interaction a snapshot in time.
It’s not how we fall, but how we stand that matters.
The heart of the matter.
The rub, the centre; the deep filled gooey splatter of time.
Stretching away like a blurring desert.
I step stone towards the unknown, letting go of uncertainty.
Restriction dropping, heart opening foolishness of youth and wisdom.
I pull you out of the cave, bring you into the light.
Dazzled by your brilliance, and mesmerised by sight.
Too long have we lingered on the dark side of the moon.
Freezing in the ill commitment to abstain.
Come, take my hand and let us drink in the solar flares.
Turn the moon to gold.
Get high on the mercury rising and dance into the fire.
Singing our solar song.

Different degrees of devote destruction

These trailing stars that shatter through our existence.
Leave chaos and beauty in their wake.
Transcended diamonds embedded in our skin.
Fires burning deep within.
What golden light are we trapped beneath.
Such hazel eyes of god.
My soul is a blackness wrapped around your galaxy.
As you pass through like a luminous shooting star.
Leaving varying traces of your continuance.
Vibrating this space with only departure and grace.
Caring not for the planets that fall.

Sparkle

In the trees, no; in the sky.
The veins are hiding it.
The light shining like the eyes of God.
It’s there all the time, do you never see it?
No, but I feel it.
Washing in my bloodstream, collecting like wax.
Divine.
Sublime.
Yet I see it now, the great orb above.
We came from it, that far off place.
Its essence coats our skin like angel dust.
A pleasant peppering, are you sure it’s those shores we stole from?
Can you not tell, does the rock in your pocket not breathe like that mountain?
Torn from the mass, yet special in it’s size.
It’s like a pebble in my mind.
Like an egg, beautiful and full of life.
It shines too, like gold.
That is the light, that is what we are.
Then why is it sometimes dark?
Dark you say?
Yes, black sometimes like oil.
That would be your own fears, covering what needs to be free.
Then let it be.
Yes, let it will be.

Cosmic resolution

Lost to everyone but myself.
As I stream through the cosmos.
Touching the stars with my fingertips.
Pausing by the swirling galaxies which shine.
Like glistening pools of diamonds.
Would I find you here?
Carved out of something seen by no-one but God.
You speak words of another time and place.
Resting softly in my head like feathers from the future.
Teasing from above like angels dropping thunderbolts.
All around but absent.
Could I lose you there?
In that place only you and I know of.
Cut in half if you begin to forget.
Faded in the half light of a dawn you once promised.
Erasing the earth like a solar eclipse.
Yet I feel you, on this night.
In this skin that’s cratered like the lunar surface.
And I touch the place you once kissed me.
Believing once more in ghosts.

Conquered

These bones lay in your care.
Fragile, like thoughts of eternity.
You bleed a million tears.
When the breadth of distance smothers.
A coldness creeps when time rushes like ghosts.
You grit your teeth, holding onto a dream.
Burning like a roman candle, hollowing your resolve.
Which voice now echoes?
Which prayer now chants its finality?
Breathing life into togetherness.
Binding us with golden thread, wrapped around heaven.
You know, and you hide it.
Keeping it safe, even from me.
For I have destroyed such cities before.
And crushed the pillars of peace in your mind.
But no more.

Forever winter (Part 30 – The End)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


The Lady of Europa

The snow was falling, coming down in huge puffs that peppered the trees that surrounded the cottage, adding another layer to the white blanket that silently covered all. Sleigh bells jingled, turning on the bend that took the path over a small bridge and brought the cottage into sight. The river had frozen over in parts, but little trickles of running water struggled through, flowing under the small bridge that the sleigh now crossed. The children were running alongside the great wooden beast, hopping on the back, and riding along with it. Along with the snow clouds, came the diminished light and the great silver lanterns of the sleigh twinkled at the front and back, catching the white expanse like pockets of tiny diamonds.

The gentlemen of the boxes pulled the sleigh, his huge bulk doing the work of any animal and with seemingly little strain. He watched as one of the children threw a snowball, ducking at the last minute as it sailed by and caught one of the other’s smack in the mouth.

“Close one Benjamin.” He said, laughing heartily, gripping the rope tighter that pulled the sleigh, turning it around the bend.

”You’re so big, it’s amazing he missed you!” Chu said, giggling as she jumped up onto the sleigh which was somewhat empty. They had travelled with the gentleman as he passed through the village and the neighbouring cottages and houses, delivering much needed items such as food and firewood to those stuck by the snow. The children were cold, but happy, eager to get to the cottage now and warm by the fire.

The cottage stuck up like a yellow tooth in a mouthful of white teeth, topped by the snow with its layer of icing. The gentlemen pulled the sleigh to a stop by the gate, breathing out a warm breath into the cold air.

“You’re coming in, right?” Samuel asked, already taking off his mittens. The others stood silent, waiting for his reply. The Gentleman looked into the sleigh, noting the remaining items, and deciding he had some time still and could stop for a little while.

“Sure, as long as there is cake.” He said, smiling and rubbing his hands together for warmth.

Stacey rolled her eyes and sighed.

“You know there’s always cake!” She said, matter of factly. And they pushed through the gate and made their way towards the small cottage door. The lamp that stood illuminating the path glowed with a blue light, casting a magical glow across the garden, now hidden by the snow.

“Can I do it this time?” Victor queried, running towards the door.

“You did it last time, it’s Rachel’s turn.” Gina pointed out, flicking off some snow from her shoulder which had fallen from the alcove above their heads.

“Ohhh, fine!” Victor said and stood back a little, allowing Rachel to shuffle to the front. The gentlemen joined them by the door, his mind taken only briefly to times gone by when this place had meant something most different to him. He watched as Rachel reached up to a glass jar. Its contents were red, almost like a curling smoke which moved around the sphere. She tipped it upside down on its bracket, and the contents began to bubble and swirl, emitting glorious little golden sparks. The smoky substance seemed to slide and move downwards in the jar, turning to a vibrant aquamarine.

“I love this bit.” Victor said, watching the sparks now as they trickled out of the jar and washed over the doorframe. Around the bracket of the door, a stone archway began to glow, the sparks of light drawn to it and creating a magical entryway.

The lady of the jars sat by a small swing in the back of her cottage as the sun shone down and basked them in tangerine light. P’erl was going higher and higher on the swing, smiling, and closing her eyes as the wind washed over her. The lady of the jars smiled as she watched P’erl, who more than once rode the swing around a full rotation, then returned to the book she was reading, or at least trying to read. She had been learning Europan, but she still struggled with many of the symbols of the alphabet.

“A half flower type one?” She called to P’erl who whizzed on by her.

“Sacred or sanctify.” P’erl called out, closing her eyes once again and allowing the strange gravity to pull her up and around.

“Ah, yes; that works. Thank you.” The lady said, popping the remains of a sandwich into her mouth as she continued to read. The book was huge, but weighed next to nothing, the paper thin and almost translucent. She loved the books on Europa, they had a magical element to them. She had spent hours already in the huge libraries there, filling her mind with the wonders of the universe.

“You have guests!” Came a voice from the window of the cottage. Ezra shook out a duster as he called down to them both.

“Oh, is that the time already. Wonderful!” The lady said, and she shut her book, carefully placing it down next to the now empty plates, the remains of a light lunch she had just enjoyed with P’erl.

The swing slowed, and P’erl hopped off, joining the lady of the jars as they made their way to the back door which stood ajar, letting the warm air inside. A grasshopper fled from the mat as they reached the door, hopping off into the grass.

“Any room for biscuits?” The lady asked P’erl as they stepped inside and entered the kitchen, going across to the counter where an array of cakes and tins of biscuits stood, ready for the guests.

“Always, especially homemade ones.” P’erl said, helping her get some plates and cups from the shelf.

Ezra appeared at the doorway, looking dusty and sweaty. He’d tied a bandana around his head to keep his hair out of the way to clean. and was wearing a cleaning apron that sported bluebells on it. The sight of him in full view made them both chuckle.

“Laugh all you want, but a bit of elbow grease is always needed around this place. It’s falling down you know! Why it’s only me who seems to do the hard work I do not know.” He said, despondently.

“Thank you, Ezra, for doing the cleaning, you don’t have to you know.” The lady said, plonking some gingerbread on a tray.

“Down to me as always.” Ezra replied. Coming across to help with the plates and trays.

They made their way through to the front room, the light pouring in through the windows. Ezra had tied the curtains up during the cleaning, little motes of escaped dust now speckling the room.

“Please could you start the fire P’erl, I hear it’s pretty brutal there at the moment.” The lady said, putting on a huge jumper and making her way towards the door. A jar next to her front door was bubbling with a blue substance, the insides jumping and glowing like a spluttering firework.

“Of course.” P’erl replied, and she knelt next to the huge open fire and conjured a brilliant blue and green flame which roared the area to life and cast a brilliant heat.

“Ready?” The lady asked, and she tapped a little script of words by her door frame. With it came a flash of white brilliance, the transformation happened.

For many one house is enough, one thing to take care of, one thing to clean and keep tidy. She loved her cottage by the river, she loved the children who came to hear her stories and listen to her amazing tales. The lady of the jars also loved Europa. She had fallen for the beauty of the planet, the kindness of the Europans, and the pull of something within her which told her that is where she needed to be. P’erl had been a missing piece in her life. Her arrival and her changing nature over the lady of the jars; and indeed, those around her, had given her exactly what she needed to grow and to be of use. To pass on her knowledge and to help make the change that was needed on earth. The world was better for what had taken place, and as the dust had settled; P’erl had explained to her the need for that process and how it was also required on other worlds, on other planets.

The Lady of the jars had stayed. As the gentleman of the boxes had returned, back to a world with regular seasons and weather patterns, he had shifted in his own soul, but she had also. She remained on the moon and with the help of P’erl she had replicated her cottage there on Europa, with the help of some magic. She lived in both places, learning, and growing, planning to help others in the great cleansing and returning that had so benefitted where she lived on earth. Using the power of the stones, she was able to build them into her little cottage, transforming it into a portal back and forth between Europa and Earth. Captured in a huge bubble on Europa under the ice, almost like a giant jar, her cottage in its own wizardry sat like a pocket of air. Many Europan’s fascinated by the types of weather that could be displayed in that little sphere. She was happy to share ranges of weather that could be displayed, no longer stuck with only winter and no longer fearing the sunshine.

As the sparks and the dust fluttered off into the snowy wind, they all bundled quickly into the cottage to get out of the cold. A few took off their shoes by the door, but many of the children rushed to a spot by the fire, closest to the heat and the treats which had been placed with care and attention by P’erl and Ezra. The lady of the jars hugged the gentleman of the boxes as he entered, a friendship now strong there and respect engrained. He couldn’t stay too long he’d explained, the tasks for the day not completed yet. Malthrop was on his list of deliveries, and Ezra said he would join him when he left to go see him also. They all settled cosily into the front room, thankful of the heat and eager for the wonder.

“Hello all, and merry Christmas!” The lady of the jars said as the children, their mouths already full of cake and gingerbread, listened quietly.

“Not just yet, besides you’ve not got any decorations.”   Benjamin said.

P’erl laughed.

“Well, yes but it is very nearly Christmas and the wintery weather I imagine is making you all festive.” The lady said.

“Can we help with the decorations?” Stacey asked, she sat properly on the mat by the fire, not helping herself to any cake just yet.

“Of course, how about this weekend? You know, I know some Europan children who would love to learn about the season too.” The lady said, and the eyes of those there in the room bulged in delight.

“Oh, and do please tell us a story about Europa.” Chu said, eagerly. The others chorused in in agreement.

The gentleman of the boxes had sat down in a huge chair opposite the lady, Ezra handing him a mug of hot chocolate. He passed around mugs for the children too, and as the fire spluttered and shone, P’erl looked at the lady and nodded her head.

“With the help of P’erl then I will tale you the story of K’lmatoi, the great ice creature which is a bit like a dragon, and who came to Europa in the tail of a comet.” The lady said, and above the children a small cloud appeared, hovering there in space. P’erl lifted her hand and out shot brilliant light which projected images and movements that helped tell the tale. As the images played out, and the children’s eyes danced in wonder, the lady of the jars popped some coconut ice into her mouth between sentences, following it with the hot chocolate that everyone seemed to be enjoying; letting the delicious drink warm her insides much like the good feeling that was burning brightly there in her little cottage. And was something that continued for many years ahead.

The snow, which had once fallen in it’s forever perpetualness before had now slowed, and the warm glow from inside flowed out of the windows, casting a bright hugging light to all around as the last few snowflakes tumbled. Winter no longer prevailed, but a forever feeling of love and joy certainly did.

The End


snowflake up close

Muddy deep sleep

Not over, not complete.
Just fading away.
A blissful depression hung up like ruby red apples.
Strung like silly smiles on those too drunk to know.
This moment washes over, the gravity pulls you down.
Chipping out teeth like tombstones yanked from the ground.
Oh the silence that it unearths.
The faded names who hoped the future would be different.
But the future just teaches loneliness.
As a departure descends.
That long goodbye, hard on the ears but softly spoken.
Trembling in time.
Nothing really dies.
We all just fade away.
Siphoned into space.
Breathed out on earth’s asthmatic exhale.
Heaving under strain.
Replaced by things we all despise.
How we spin and sigh and scream.
Reduced to floating dust and regret.
Asleep and dormant, waiting for the nothing.
Fearing the repeat.

Taking you apart again


TAKE YOU APART

To pull open your world, and sneak inside.
Tearing out your heart, giving you mine.
Feeling each rise and fall of your chest.
Would lay me out like gold.
Each breath conquers me.
As you lick your lips.
Suggesting that is where we build our home.
On the tip of something beautiful.
We’ve cried out our past.
Knocked down each remnant of uncertainty.
Covering our delicate present in feathers and down.
For this is where we shall collapse.
And watch true love collide.
Collecting it up in a bucket of flesh and stars.

MORE VIDEO ART HERE


 

Forever winter (Part 29)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


PARTLY SUNNY

They could hear the music flowing down the huge vents that seemed to puncture each room. A crystal symphony fluttered over them as they sat in a small glassy space, the ice on the floor moving in dark solid colours. It was comfortable and warm, the air hanging with a lovely woody scent which seemed to drift by along with the music. P’erl was talking to someone as the lady and gentleman sat together on a large chair in the centre of the room.

P’erl’s voice sounded strange and intriguing, slipping it seemed to them both, between Europan and earthen dialects. They didn’t understand much of what she said, but they seemed to feel the conversation, as if the sense of it all crawled under their skin. The gentleman was quiet, his head hung slightly low but not in shame, more of respect for his circumstance. The lady of the jars touched him gently on the arm.

“Are you alright?” She asked. The gentleman nodded. He had been scanned by a strange object upon entering the room, P’erl had arranged for him to be checked over both for health reasons, and to peek into the soul that lay inside him. Europans were able to view the soul elements of the body as clearly as those who practised medicine on earth. They could see where the bonds were weak, where the darkness had ravaged the light filled nature that they knew all beings had. “Things will be better from now on, please know that to be the truth.” She added, patting his arm to punctuate her intent.

“I am….” The gentleman began quietly, but at that moment P’erl came over to them.

“You are both invited it seems to the great festival.” She said, smiling warmly. The lady of the jars beamed back at her.

“Oh, how wonderful. I do love a good knees up, and there is much to celebrate. Urm, what is it all about then?” She said, curiously. P’erl put her hand to her heart.

“I thought you might have sensed. The emanations are pretty strong, and you are highly tunned I feel.” P’erl said. The lady smiled, casting her eyes all around the room and sighed.

“My dear, I think all my energy has been exploited, stolen, and fluttered away. I can just about keep my eyes open.” She said, and there was but for a moment a wink of loss in her eyes.

“I can help with that.” P’erl said, and she went across the room to where a small set of box like objects sat in the wall. They looked like mother of pearl shells, the light catching the colours which twinkled out of the many things in the room. She spoke over them, quietly and breathlessly making the boxes open like an oyster. P’erl took out two items and returned to where they sat.

“Please wear these.” She said and offered two crystals to the lady and the gentleman.

The crystals were small and blue, out of which a small gossamer thread looped around like a necklace. “These are Ranoang stones, they will heal and revitalise you.” She added, watching as they took them and placed them over their heads. The threads tightened lightly, and the crystals seemed to glow as they touched their skin.

“I can see how you all remain beautiful.” The gentleman said, not looking at her. The lady of the jars smacked his arm playfully.

“You old cad.” She said, smiling. The crystals seemed to instantly work, with a renewed energy flowing now in their hearts. “I’m assuming they do more than heal.” The lady noted, touching hers. P’erl gave a twinkle in her eye.

“They…rebalance.” P’erl finally said, the silence hanging a moment too long. The lady understood. “Come, Othrox is the celebration of our time lived and gone. A remembering of who we were, and who we are yet to be. It is the most festive of events.”

The lady and the gentleman stood; the gentleman looked back towards the inlaid boxes in the wall.

“The people we were… I’m not sure that is merry in my case.” He said, his head hanging slightly. P’erl came over to him and touched the crystal now around his neck. A beautiful sound escaped it, one only he could hear. It whispered words to him in delicate song, words from his own heart.

“We all look back in the remembering, knowing where we have been and who we are now because of it. No matter what we have been through, it has gotten us here to this place now. Tomorrow is yet to be after all.” She said with a smile and turned, leading them out of the room and towards the Koddoah.

Ezra and Malthrop had made their way back to Malthrop’s little house. Patches of snow lay about the forest, and much of the roof to his cottage was weighted down still by a white blanket. The sun was bursting through the trees, speckling the watery drips of melting ice and snow, and refracting little rainbows all around. The sun shone in through the windows, and despite the rays, Malthrop had put his little stove on and started a fire also.

Ezra sat by the fire, rubbing his hands which were still raw and cold together to warm them up. Malthrop sat down by him, two steaming cups of spiced chai tea filling the space with the smell of comfort.

“From Chu’zin, they have the best sellers there.” Malthrop said, clonking them down on the little table which also held a book bound in a beautiful green cover, a pattern of lotus flowers decorating it.

“Thank you.” Ezra said, reaching for his mug.

“Quite the adventure I’d say. I do think this needs to be written down, a story to tell.” Malthrop said, looking at the fire. Ezra had explained it all to him, how they’d all come to be there, the challenges and the treasures which had unfolded since the arrival of the girl from Europa.

“My guess is you might just be the man to do it.” Ezra said, smiling.

“They loved stories, you know; they used to say I was a conjurer of the fantastic.”” He said, chuckling a little. He patted the book next to him. Ezra smiled too but could see the sadness.

“It must have been hard for you, and awful in the clearing. Seeing them like that.” He said. Malthrop shook his head.

“That wasn’t them, that was just the body. Their soul passed on, too much to see and do beyond I imagine. No, what had become of them was not who I love and remember.” Malthrop said, confidently.

“You know, the old boot loves to tell stories. She has the children from the village come to hear her go on and on about her fanciful tales. I’m guessing you two could make quite the team in your storytelling.” Ezra said, slurping the chai now eagerly.

“Truth telling!” Malthrop said, with a smile.

“But who’d believe you, eh? “Ezra added.

“Ah, well that is the key isn’t it. I think you’re on to something though, I may indeed apply my so-called talents to where they might find appreciation.” He said.

“I’m pleased to hear that.” Ezra said, sitting back in his seat. The light was shining in through the window now, a beautiful yellowy shine as the ice dripped off the roof. Spring it seemed, was making itself known.

It was the music that caught them by surprise. They had expected such sights, due to the nature of Europa. The beautiful ice and glassy casings in everything, pops of colours shooting around like blood through a vein. But the music, they had heard nothing like it before. It seemed to breathe out of the surfaces, swirling around their heads where you stood before moving onwards to dazzle someone else.

The great hall was awash with activity and movement. The stones shimmered above, jettisoning colourful puffs of smoke while light twinkled everywhere, like the sun catching a jewel box. Europan’s danced and swayed, stood, and sat all around the room. Hundreds of them, dressed in silvery clothes which made them look like giant salmon fish to the lady of the jars. But the beauty of the place was undeniable, and the feelings of kindness, joy and light flooded everything and everyone.

P’erl led them forward into the room, acceptance of their presence notable in their welcoming smiles and feelings of ease all around. She navigated them to the centre of the room where a sunken section tiered downwards like and inverted tiered cake. Here there were great flumes of blue water which shot upwards, freezing into ice and melting downwards in the next moment, particles of dusty light erupting outwards and off into the room.

They made their way down into the centre point where many Europans were gathered. P’erl seeming to float before them, leading the way. She stopped at a small group and presented the lady and the gentleman to them.

“Father.” P’erl said, and she reached forth touching his arm delicately. She had been with him earlier and was delighted she had returned. He knew how important it had all been to her, but he’d known also that it would have gone this way. Though he was in possession of future sight, it was not in his nature to inform those of their own destiny.

“Here are those souls from Earth.” She said, smiling at the lady and the gentleman.

The gentleman was rapidly growing accustomed to new and amazing things. Being bunkered down in the ground for so long, captivated by the darker magic and trapped in his own thoughts, now this mind and heart had been prised open, the rush inside was like oxygen to his brain. He stepped forth and shook the hand of P’erl’s father, who seemed the find it an odd way to greet. The lady bobbed her head, saying hello and thanking them for everything.

“So, all is safe, and all is changed then on Earth.” P’erl’s father inquired. “These stones and this place are, I’m afraid, one part in the great order of things.” The lady nodded in understanding.

“Our little planet is safe, and the great change has happened. Because of P’erl, and because of this magic we have made things better in our own way.” She said. “This magic, as you know, is not ours or yours. We are but the caretakers of the great ancient power, it’s an honour to handle it and to care for it.”

He nodded himself, the words burrowing deep into his soul. This is exactly how he felt. With all they did across the universe, with everything that the room they were in represented, it was all part of something they knew only a tiny bit about really.

“This is universal. Though strangers, we are all intertwined. P’erl was fortunate to have made her journey at this time, so that you are the souls she met. As it was written.” He said.

“Written yes, but it could always be changed.” P’erl added, her mind turning over a hundred things now, potential seeming to slither inside of her once more.

“Of course. And look what you achieved.” He said.

“She saved me, she saved all of us from something most terrible.” The gentleman said suddenly.

“No, you saved yourself. I merely shone the light.” P’erl said, placing a hand on his shoulder tenderly. A great understanding and comfort surrounding them all.

The celebrations of Othrox rolled on, and the room lifted and fell with energy, light and appreciation. They all looked to their former selves, giving thanks for the challenges which had changed them, and brought them all there to that spot in that moment. The Mondol Stones had begun to fade as the day had gone on. The images within disappearing and darkening as the energy was required elsewhere it seemed. Much would be remembered by the gentleman of the boxes and the lady of the jars, but that moment and that time with P’erl celebrating their lives in a most strange and wonderful place was something that stayed with them all forever. Knowing how far they’d come and what was left to be.

As the day slipped away, one day on Europa equating to three days on earth, time did its funny dance in fixing and healing, mending, and forgetting. Soon it came to talk of taking the next steps, of goodbyes and plans on returning. The lady of the jars however had some very specific thoughts on this.


snowflake up close

Forever winter (Part 28)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


CHOICES AND CHANGE

Rushing inside, the gentleman of the boxes had to catch his breath momentarily. This was not due to this strange new world in which he’d found himself in, but instead due to a physical reaction he had when entering the illumination station. His heart had double thumped, the air seemingly pulled out of him in a quick rush which left him struck for a moment. He looked inside the huge space, blue spikes of ice jutting up from the ground, a static electricity pulsing from one to the next. The spikes glowed, little lightning strikes coursing up and down each one as the room hung with an energy and weight.

No one was around, he quickly flashed his eyes across the space, checking his solitude and registering his fear. He was shaken, disturbed to be on a different world, far away from the underground soil and clutches of earth he had come to know well. This displacement had rattled him, his plan of consuming the power of the girl, and finally overcoming the lady of the jars had been taken from him. He felt little anger with these thoughts, a flash of opportunity perhaps settling in his bones. This place, this cold world was alien, but he knew and felt a source of power and control here, in this room and in this time.

Going across to one of the spikes, he automatically put out his hand to touch the icy surface. The energy within junction-ing at the spot where his skin touched. His mind flashed to his book, the incantations seeming to scroll through his mind as if he had memorised them. He pulled his hand back, his eyes wide.

“No. Not now, not after.” He said aloud, surprised at his voice echoing around him.

The energy seemed to pull his hand back towards the iced spike, the white light coursing up and down beginning to bleed a red hue, like blood poured into water. Suddenly he gripped with both hands, and his eyes crashed shut.

In his mind boxes thrust upwards all around him. He could hear the splintering sound of broken wood, crashing about and smashing together. Boxes made, assembled all around. He spun in his mind, the boxes being filled over and over with these stranger creatures, ones from this planet, ones that looked like the girl. The eyes shut, their faces contorted in a pain and despair. The boxes packed up on themselves, stacking higher and higher until they touched the roof, bursting forth as the sky seemed to open. Down flooded the Dimian like rain, their green phosphorus glow consuming the boxes, the ice and everything they touched. Finding their way to him, they started to devour his feet, quickly bubbling up to cover his legs, their rabid hunger devouring him and his soul as he silently screamed.

His eyes flew open, his hands still on the spikes. The energy inside seemed to have gathered, flashes of red and white streaks eager to break out and go somewhere. All on his direction, he knew. He could feel the power beneath the cold ice in his hands. A little fleck of ice fluttered down and landed gently on his nose, it looked like a snowflake. He pictured the forest back home, swathed in a blanket of white. The perpetual winter. He shook off the ice, and the feeling which was rushing through him suddenly and uncontrollably. He pulled his hands away just as he heard a shout from behind, calling his name. His real name, one he’d not heard for many years.

Back on earth, back in the clearing the mist had swelled and seeped steadily, covering everything. The Stones shone like giant eyes in the foggy conditions and Ezra could only just see Malthrop, though he stood close. It had happened in a blink of an eye, all around was covered with the unusual mist and very faintly they could hear something out in the otherness.

“What is happening now, this is getting a bit too much for an old man to take.” Malthrop said, quite unused to these courses of magical happenings. Ezra stood, looking and thinking, piecing it all together in his skull, his mind that of the lady of the jars, turning over the magic like a mixture in a bowl. What was this?

“The correction!” He said suddenly and enthusiastically.

“Tell me, is that a good or bad thing?” Malthrop asked, unsure.

“It’s good, trust me. This is what she needed; this is what P’erl was here to do. It’s the correction that the world needs.” Ezra replied. Malthrop looked on, seeing only the dark and fog, shadows moving about beyond.

“If you say so, I hope you’re right. To me it looks ominous.” He said, pulling his cloak in a bit tighter to him.

“It’s all an illusion. Have you gone through a day ever feeling a bit off? Like something was missing, or kept you from enjoying a moment? Have you felt the coldness in someone’s voice, or seen an emptiness in their eyes? It’s how the world has slipped over time, with everyone putting their needs first, their actions of comfort being the central theme to their life. No one said life should ever been easy or comfortable. Everyone pushes against the difficult, burying it when it will only sprout in other areas. This world has amassed a great underground burial of darkness, it’s what keeps everything never quite right.” Ezra said, rather impassioned.

“And this correction will fix all that, for good?” Malthrop asked.

Ezra shook his head.

“Not forever no, but it resets everything and gives us all another chance to start over. This mist is sweeping through and absorbing all the darkness, all the negativity and pain. It’s quite an amazing event. It needed the girl; it needed the power of the magic and the energy that came from Europa.” He added.

“But what will happen to the darkness, surely it can’t just disappear.” Malthrop said, taking it all in. Ezra turned to him; his eyes alive with excitement.

“The brightest light of course comes from the darkest places, it will transform it, and I think we’re about to see that happen.” Ezra said, and just as he did, they heard a sound off in the distance but close too as if it tickled their own ears. An ethereal sound began to grow, like water washing inside a shell, it spread outward and inward at the same time, a beautiful sound like prayers caught in the ceiling of a temple. On the horizon a small light burned into existence and grew outwardly, it was one of only two times in Malthrop’s life where his breath had been taken away in wonder.

“Quickly.” The lady of the jars said, rushing forth towards the illumination station. They could see a sparking light emit from the place through the icy shell. P’erl had left herself for a moment, hurrying off in her mind to a place she had known from birth. A Library is a rough description of where she went to in that moment, but it best fits what the place on Europa was. A place of knowledge, or guidance, of help. The power in those frozen words, collected and stored for eons, etched in water which flowed and froze in memories recorded in time. She left, only for a moment, to find in that place all that was needed.

The lady called his name, it sounded odd to them both there in that moment, a million miles later. Few knew him, few could remember who he once had been. Back at the start, where it needed to end and begin once more. He turned to her, his hands pulling away from the ice in that moment, the energy stuttering, not knowing where to go.

“Come back, back from the brink.” She called again, her voice traveling with speed to surround him, on the wings of tiny invisible creatures to pop by his ears. He looked at them, a desperate calling in his eyes, a darkness and sadness which leaked outwards in the bright atmosphere of Europa.

“I hate you.” He said, the darkness spilling from his mouth. The lady laughed, knowing there suddenly they had finally won.

“You hate the snow, that is all. The darkness hates light, but it needs it to be. You may have chosen this route, but you can always choose a different course. Come, it is the end.” She said, stepping forward and holding her hand outward. He reached for her, the darkness dispersing like smoke in the wind. He broke away from the connection with the ice and turned to her, he reached out also, a smile and warmthless appearing there on his face. Behind him a great surge in energy fired through the icy spikes, all of them erupting now with giant flashes of sparkling white light.

The lady turned to P’erl, uncertainty there only for a moment. P’erl held her own hands out towards the gentleman and the lady.

“There is no danger, this is as it should be. Your earthly energies are strange but not unknown here. Choices and change are more powerful than many see.” And with that, they all grasped each other’s hands, the ancient magic of the lady of the jars, the transformed darkness of the gentleman of the boxes and the cosmic swell of the girl from Europa joined there in that moment, sparkling the ice all around them like huge shattering diamonds of light.

The clearing was still and quiet. Ezra and Malthrop found themselves on the floor of the clearing, the snow beneath spreading a chill. Malthrop opened his eyes, lifting his body upwards to sit and look at the view before him. The mist and fog were gone, and he could hear some early bird song off in the distant trees.

Next to him, Ezra stirred, rubbing his head as he too sat up.

“I’m getting pretty tired of all these surprises you know.” He said, looking around also to see what had happened.

“It has been something that calls for a good write up I think, a story to pass along to others lest they don’t believe.” Malthrop replied, smiling.

Behind them the Mondol stones continued their connection with Europa, the transportive image showing the moon on the other side of space.

“So, all has righted itself then?” Malthrop asked, shaking off the snow from his hair.

“I believe so, this world needed a great correcting.” Ezra said, looking out into the clearing.

“Changes to come then, for the better still I hope.” Malthrop said. Ezra nodded his head.

“Much will change and has changed. We all need to be mindful that what we do affects others more than we usually realise.” Ezra added.

In the space between the two, a clump of snow fell away and up through the white covering a sprout was pushing its way upwards searching for the light. Before them the green, struggling against the pull of gravity, burst forth into a yokey brilliance. A daffodil smiled back to them; its yellow petals dusted with the snow it had needed to escape through to be.


snowflake up close

Distant thunders

The Glittering eternity of the night sky.
Finding heaven as a reference point.
Powdered divinity dusting my soul.
The glowing ebbs of long dying embers
When the fires swept through, it stole all.
Finding hurt as its oxygen.
A great engine of pain.
But my fortress could not be burned.
At it’s centre, a well of strength.
Plumbed by the depths of my existence.
My being.
The only reason, is you.
Why I walk the earth and breathe air once recycled.
Brought to me by northward currents.
The smell of eucalyptus and heat.
Entering my eyes and skin.
Reimaging the smudge of a memory.
The red smeared mark of you.
You.
The reason I battle forth.
Carry on in your unending war on love.
Though these wounds we bleed cry red tears.
I know you will be there at the final fall.
Soaking everything away with love.

Provenance

How do you not shake, with such worlds inside of you.
Looking into the orbs of your soul, I see galaxies forming.
My heart swims across those burnt hazel pools.
Breathing hydrogen and life, watching comets disappearing.
Love mirrors and love remains.
It flows inside our veins.
Showing up the places that are broken.
Unconditionally we cloak each other.
Covering the scars and bruises of memory.
Cloaked in rose kissed armour.
Light as angel sighs.
Defiant and enduring, like a kiss upon waking.
For love cannot be undone.
Each part of this love is a moment.
Strung together like rosary beads.
Blessed and cherished, but never betrayed.
Clutched close when the darkness threatens.
The light of our love gleams through those cracks.
Cracks which show where we pulled our pieces together.
And I will kiss each wound with a prayer.
Devouring a genesis,  as our skin meets.
Collapsing in time.

Forever winter (Part 26)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


BRIGHT WHITE LIGHT

Snow, all around her. Light white brilliant snow. She could smell it, sense it. Hear the silence that always came with it. Little flecks of moisture in the air now suspended in perpetual intricate beauty. Those snowflakes had carved themselves of her heart, and she would never undo their grooves.

The whiteness dazzled. It sung in its blinding opulence, covering everything before her, around her and inside her. Fresh snow has a distinct crisp glow, untouched and virginal it lays there awaiting the drops of dirt or imprint of a foot to begin the entropic change. A great white blanket thrown over her landscape.

She saw this now, feeling the cold tiptoe up her skin as a light cold breeze completed the scene. She shivered in happiness, gone was the brilliance of the sun and the heat. That humidness which made her sweat and attracted the flies to everything. The forest and plants heaved under the weight of the fallen snow, yet sprouts and tufts of ferns poked through, not covered completely. Already adapting to their encasement, the flowers turned towards the sun, though hidden behind a grey cloth of cloud. Breathing it all in, she was amazed not only by what she had done, but the power of nature itself.

It was her first great display, her first control of weather that she had earlier bottled in a jar. She had climbed the great green dragon, the mountain at the edge of their little world. Many younger and stronger souls would not brave such a climb, but the lady of the jars had done just this. Reaching the summit to bottle the snow and cold, now twinkling in a jar left casually on her kitchen table by the orange bowl. She had succeeded, her frozen landscape stretched as far as her eyes could muster in the blinding white. She knew herself, for a first attempt, there was a limit to its reach. But with more attempts, the winter she so longed for creeped further and further from her, casting its cold hand across the land.

It was the white, the blinding iridescent collide in her eyes and mind that took her back to that first great unravelling of her power. It, like that first snow, surrounded her now. Coursing through her body and electrifying all around. The power of the stones had struck the lady of the jars like lightning strikes the sand, and inside her thoughts and her being were burnt to a crystalline liquid, where she could see through to her soul. It took only a moment, but in that flash, she saw all of time. She breathed in the life of those around in the clearing. From birth to their coming deaths, she watched as all their lives fell slowly like snowflakes. She saw P’erl’s home planet, the surroundings of her childhood and growing up with the hole her mother left. The gentleman of the boxes slid out on the ice of her eyes, his fragile boyhood, smacked and damaged by life. Malthrop’s recent pain shimmered like diamonds with drops of blood within. And even the Dimian’s all-consuming drive was spun out on god’s fingertips, showing her the balance of the universe and the need for all life’s happy accidents. She saw her own death, and she smiled seeing how she would finally leave this material realm, and who waited for her in the next.

It was these lives that were important, that was clear to her. Not the power or the control; or even the great cosmic shifts that were happening there in that small clearing. That was what came with the voice in the light, the tinkering chime of bells like sleigh bells announcing an arrival. It was strong and determined, the essence of life and its importance. How precious people and things really are, and how easily damaged and corrupt they can become without love. In the white light, she slowly began to make out the shapes, like the opposite of the dark when you can see things out of the corner of your eyes. It all came back in slow motion, materialising out of the force around her, her heart skipping not once, but twice over as the energy passed through her. She knew what must be done, and she knew that she had been given a glance at this moment before in her life. In dreams and feelings, in moments where she had felt the future but failed to grasp it, like trying to cup breath on a cold day.

She closed her eyes and allowed the force to take her. Willing her body across to where the Dimian were huddled, offering them the most divine and fused banquet for their small little mouths.

Ezra and Malthrop stood, shielding their eyes from the burst of light emitted from the stones. They had watched the lady of the jars stride forth towards the centre. The Girl from Europa had hung by the other Mondol stone, she and the gentleman of the boxes seemingly caught in the static pull of the stone nearest to them. The scene was electrifying as the white light smashed down into the clearing, out of the stones, and blistering around them. Ezra smelt the hum of static electricity and could taste the change in the air. Like glimpses at the sun, they waited for their vision to return and the white smear across their eyes to dissipate.

A soft snow had begun to fall once more, and Ezra searched the place with his eyes to where the lady of the jars stood moments before, but nothing was there. Malthrop in similar confoundedness looked to where P’erl had been with the gentleman of the boxes, but that space too yawned an emptiness that was only repeated by the disappearance of the Dimian. The clearing was empty of souls but those two, the giant stones quiet and silent now as the snow began to settle on their crests.

“What happened, where did they all go?” Malthrop asked, unfamiliar with this extent of magic and calamity.

“I…I don’t know.” Ezra mumbled back, unsure of everything himself.

He walked forward slowly, his eyes scanning the clearing as if maybe they were all hiding behind a tree. The silence about them felt heavy, the static in the air now gone and only the little flakes of snow drifting through like white embers.

“What was most likely to have happened, logically what would have taken place?” Malthrop asked, coming next to Ezra. They both stood between the two stones now, the giant rocks ached in their stillness. Ezra turned to the ground, thinking desperately. His own mind was flashing between what he had seen before, and the thoughts and memories of the lady of the jars. A parade of her life intersecting with the white flash he’d just witnessed.

“The Kahall.” He said, quietly. And though he hadn’t seen, a little spark popped out of the centre of both of the stones. He went on. “The Kahall, they were the ancients who transformed the natural magic. They siphoned the great light through everything you see, hear, touch. This life hinges on the motes of energy within. They used the stones, like a great well, plunging the depths of the world to control the magic. It’s here written on the rock.” Ezra said, pointing to the one closest to them.

Malthrop stepped closer to the stone, looking at the base and following upward the spiralling pattern which bore the knowledge.

“It’s for everyone, it does not recognise good or bad. It is power, energy; and it’s how we use it that results in what we manifest. The lady, she was…is the kindest soul. She would want to restore the balance, to roll things to a time when no one was pushing forth a need of their own. Too much of a good thing can be just as bad as too much of the wrong. P’erl was the essence of good, innocence. But her strength is otherworldly and quite powerful. Balance, she would have looked for the balance.” Ezra said, his head low, thinking still.

Malthrop turned from the stone.

“What would have made that balance possible?”

“To receive anything, you must give. She would’ve given herself to stabilise all the energy. A filament for the moment. She knew the magic; she knew the balance. She had become, herself, too needful of her control of the weather. It came from a good place, but it tipped the scales as much as the gentleman of the boxes had. She would’ve recognised this and did what she had to. She knew it was coming.” Ezra said, sadly.

“So, they’re all gone then, is that what you mean?”

“The consequence to balance, some things disappear.” Ezra said, the realisation hitting him suddenly and pulling at his heart.

“What a terrible waste, there is too much loss already in the world. Are things safe now then?” Malthrop asked, suddenly noticing that all the bodies had disappeared from the clearing.

Ezra looked around again himself.

“Yes, safe and better I’m assuming. The wrongs have been corrected, there is peace and order again in the land.”

“Then come, let us go from here if it is all complete.” Malthrop said, coming across to Ezra and putting his hand on his shoulder.

“I might stay for a while, just to see….” He trailed off.

“Come my friend, if I go, you go too. No point in remaining here alone, come back to my house and I’ll get us some much-needed food.” Malthrop said smiling, comfortingly.

It was the spark from the stones and the thought in his mind, suddenly illuminating at the same time. A Little light emitted from the centre of the stones again, and with Ezra’s realisation, there might be hope.

“If I go, you go…” He said aloud. He looked between the stones now, the sparks spluttering with a bit more urgency.

“I only meant…” Malthrop began, but Ezra cut in.

“No, it’s good. It’s good. If I go, you go. She said it. The crazy old fool must have been right. She can’t be gone yet, for I’m still here.” He said, smiling now.

“I don’t understand.” Malthrop said.

“I know, and it’s a long story. But believe me, there is a chance that it’s not as bad as we think. She’s alive, somewhere. And that probably means the others are too. I don’t know what is happening, but the stones are trying to tell us something now, look.” Ezra said, and Malthrop turned to see the stones himself, each one leaking a string of white light from the centre.

“What’s happening now?” Malthrop asked.

“Let’s watch and find out…maybe we’d better step back a little.” Ezra said, urging them both backward, away from the strings of light which were snaking towards each other across the floor of the clearing.

The strings began to whirl a pulsing sound, like two desperate hands reaching for one another. The light began to intensify the closer they got and the little sparks at the end fizzed and hissed, chasing away the dark. Malthrop couldn’t help it, but he held his breath just as the two ends met, a shower of light, sparks and white heat once again exploded around them.

With the two points fused together, a rotating blue pulse emitted from the centre, plunging backwards into the stones. As the throb quickened, the middle of the stones began to cave away, revealing a cloudy opening like an eye. The white and the blue swirled and swirled, and the centres opened up further offering the two souls who stood before them a glimpse at another world.

It is not unusual to find rock on Europa, though the types that are there are very different from those on earth. Though they indeed exist, they are not used in building or any structural elements, the Europans preferring the icy caves and hollows to fashion their world out of. Most stones and rocks hold a different set of use and practices for them, many used as the centre of some ceremony or ritual.  Lying in the navel of the great Koddoah, a huge building shaped similarly to a flower, lay five giant stones. The Koddoah is an ancient place where the energy and power of all around is recognised, but not worshipped. It is venerated through ceremonies and events that remind all Europans of the great essence of the universe. These stones are marked with the same carvings as those in the clearing on earth, and on the frozen white moon two of these stones had just begun to come alive with light.


snowflake up close

Skeletons in the sky


SKELETONS IN THE SKY

I hear the angels whispering to me, quietly in my sleep.
Loudly when I wake.
Cracking my skull like an egg.
Dipping their fingers inside.
This life.
Sun shined yellowed and fresh.
Stretched out and taut like a lamb on the rack.
Hurried time, and love spent.
Empty like a tramp’s bottle.
You gave me the promises you couldn’t keep.
Tucked under my mattress for the day it rained.
Waiting for the monsoon.
It poured, and I was washed away.
Washed out to sea like sardines and ship wrecks.
So I wait now.
For that dark sky to open up and swallow me again.
Suck the light from my bones and spirit me away.
Like skeletons in the sky.
Solar pirates for the soul.
Yet gone before it happens, before the decay.
Drifting in the cosmic sleep.
One you can’t undo.
Until I wake to discover, you loved me too.

MORE VIDEO ART HERE


Forever winter (Part 25)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


The time yet to be

Chu’zin was known for its fireworks. Of course, the city was known for a great many things too, least of all the cherry blossoms that bloomed in such substantial proportions that it made the city look like a floating pink cloud from the distant regions of Marloagh. But it was their firework displays, and production that many new the place for. The usual festivals made use of the renowned colourful displays, but once a year in the winter they had a very special festival which lit up the sky like heaven was exploding. K’boah, the time yet to be. An event the whole city, and surrounding villages came together to mark the advent of the future. Not a new year, but the light of the future which they drew down into their hearts. The fireworks were used to signal up into the heavens, that the people were eager for another day, another life ahead. Firing rockets and colour up into the sky, drawing down the light for a new tomorrow.

The displays of K’boah were legendary, with each year new floating lanterns and arrangements set to outdo last year’s efforts. The whole city looked as if it were on fire, the energy positive and hopeful for change. A soaring section of fireworks were always kept constant, plunging upwards into the night sky, creating a ladder of light up, up and up. Drawing down the light from beyond, drawing in the new tomorrow.

These were the lights Malthrop had seen, on one visit to Chu’zin. The lights he and the others saw now in the clearing were just as intense and commanding, but they held a more magical aura. The Mondol stones shone upwards, their lights never breaking, and glowing in their beautiful hum. The green and the blue pierced the sky above, pointing rays to the stars above them. The blue misty light from one side of the clearing reflected off the snow, a white haze moving towards them like collected fog. On the other side, the spluttering lizard green which made it seem the trees were alive. It hissed like a static wave, pouring forth into the clearing with heat and intensity.

The lady watched the blue light bobbing out into the open, she cast her eyes towards Malthrop who remained on the ground, holding the body in his arms still. He too was drawn to the lights, which hypnotically weaved into the lives.

“What’s happening, is this his doing?” Ezra asked, his eyes alive with curiosity.

“No, I don’t think so. But look at the colours, the blue and the green. It’s like….” The lady said but was cut short by the appearance of the Dimian now in all their collectiveness, getting closer to the Mondol stone which shone with the green light.

“Look, look at that!” Ezra said, pointing towards the mass.

The Dimian were toppling over themselves, their little bodies bobbing up and down in the strange light that cast over them. Little sparks emitted from them as they jumped and swayed towards the stone, it too striking off arching lights that sprung forth from the edges.

“It looks like they are charging up or something, being fuelled by the stone.  Why is it doing that?” Ezra asked, his eyes glued to the scene. Not many people had ever seen a Dimian, and never in such numbers; least of all surviving to tell the tale.

“They are feeding off the energy, but something else is happening; it’s not their usual source of power. It’s reacting differently with them it seems.” The lady of the jars said, equally fascinated. She knew a lot about the magic of the world, and indeed of the Dimian. Seen for their destructiveness, they were also the cleaners of the world, the insects of the realm that mopped up any extra magic that was lying around.

“Look there!” Ezra said, pointing off over to the other side of the clearing where the foggy blue mist made contact with the other stone. “It’s P’erl.”

They all looked over and they could see the girl from Europa now, a cocoon of light swam around her, beating like a heartbeat. Next to her they could see the gentleman of the boxes, falling down to his knees now as the blue mist touched the other Mondol stone. Unlike the sparks from the Dimian, the light here seemed to wash them like waves, little tides of blue flowing from the stone over them, the intense white from P’erl unfazed by the ripples, like a diamond poking out of the ocean.

“What the hell is going on!” Ezra asked.

“I think we are here for the end.” The lady of the jars said, and stood forth and commandingly, as if announcing herself to the clearing, the stones and to the world at large. With a loud crack of thunder above, they saw a lightning strike of ice burst out of the sky and rocketed down to where she stood, little flakes of snow hissing all around them as they melted in an instant in the heat from the lights that encased them in the clearing.

The Dimian are necessary creatures in the world, though many would wish them to never be. They are seen as dangerous, evil and selfish. The locusts of the underworld, consuming and collecting, caring not for what they destroy or what consequence they leave behind. They are dormant for many years, consuming vast quantities of power and energy to sustain their sleep periods which can last generations. They are creatures on Europa also which follow a similar pattern. The Lankaripii are small little clouds that can fit in the palm of your hand. They move through the ice caverns, sucking up the nitrogen that bleeds out of the ice and rock, the stuff of comets. They then gather, en-masse, in giant cloudarys, a type of funnel, which hang from the roofs of the deeper caves. They pulsate a purple radiance when they hibernate, the nitrogen sustaining their sleep while they slowly oxidise and expel powder particles which line the walls and allow for the Europans to breathe at such depths. All a cycle, all part of the process.

But unlike the Lankaripii, Dimian do not discriminate in their source of fuel. They consume whatever is powerful, whatever energy source they can devour. In turn, it can have a subtle effect on their nature. Negative power can cause them to be volatile and unstable. But the opposite is true of the positive nature of light, in which once it is consumed, the Dimian will emit rebuilding molecules in their expelling processes and be more collectively beneficial; and usually seeking slumber quicker. The negative power seems to aggravate as well as stimulate.

The gentlemen of the boxes had fed them dangerous magic, an unstable and corrosive form which only sought to destroy. They were encased and rattled, unable to be their true state of being. Once his power was broken, and they were free to escape, they had exploded angrily into the clearing, hungry for more of the dangerous elements.

The Mondol stones themselves are neither good, nor bad, but a collective balance of power. Like a lightbulb, they work on both positive and negative elements to exist. Generating an energy from the world around them, feeding into a new power. They have many properties of course, and many uses, though most people revere them too much to investigate or know. That is to say, just the one stone, for the other had been hidden for centuries. The lady of the jars knew what power the stones held of course, she had read about the old magic and knew of the balance it could create in the world and beyond.

As the Dimian were frozen in their state of consumption, they all watched as P’erl moved towards the other stone, the blue light emitting from it suddenly surging towards her in an arc. In a flash the two stones connected themselves, the blinding white light exploding all around them and sending a white pulse up into the sky above them. The whole clearing was bathed in the brilliance, the white snow evaporating in an instant as the heat and light melted it all around.

“Should we do something?” Ezra asked, casting his hand over his eyes and turning to where he thought the lady was. But she was striding forth now, towards the centre of the clearing between where the two stones and pillars of action were. “Wait, is it safe?” Ezra called after her, sparks and cracks of light emitting themselves in little hissings snakes all around the stones, the girl and the Dimian.

Ezra spotted the gentleman of the boxes now, on the floor of the clearing over where P’erl was by the stone. He was cowering, holding his hands up against the light which must have been blinding so close. He watched as P’erl floated on the spot, her eyes open and transfixed on the stone before her. Swinging his glance to the other side, he saw the Dimian throbbing and shaking, slowly building themselves upwards, atop each other as if climbing up towards the stone, slowly arching over towards the light which shot through them. It was an awesome scene, the frazzled smell of heat with water lifting all around.

“Do we do something?” Malthrop asked Ezra, who kept his eye on the scene before him.

“I think we have to see what happens; she knows what she’s doing.” Ezra said, watching the lady of the jars striding into the centre of the clearing.

She strode forth, watching the light arc above her head, mindful of all the knowledge now coursing through her mind. The magic, the memories, the pain and the joy. What her mother had told her, what she had learnt from her book. What she felt in her heart. A great connection had been made before them now. This was no accident; this had been planned. P’erl was here to bring a balance, the Dimian were driving the negative side. P’erl, from the other side of space had come here to give herself to them, to correct what was wrong. But what was so wrong? That thought stopped her now, caught in her head like a bit of toast caught in a throat.

What is needing correction?

The world was difficult, painful and hard sometimes. Her own life had taught her that. The pain she had experienced, which had led to her control of the weather, to banish those sunny days. The pain she knew about deeply. But there was joy and wonder too. She saw the hope and love in the eyes of the children, in the souls of the village near to her, in books and stories that she read. She looked over and saw the gentleman of the boxes, and she felt pity. She had driven him, in part, to his deeds. She and her control of the snow. She had sought her own comfort from something outside herself, without the consideration of others.

Had the painful events in her life not have happened, could she be the person she was today? The lady of the jars, who read stories to children and baked gingerbread. Who helped those who needed it and bottled, not just weather, but things for others if required? The plants in her jars, the essences for medicine. Helping those in the village. A kind soul who had turned the dark of her life, to the light she bottles and gave away. Was life, this world really in need of such a correction? Or was it as it should be.

These thoughts coursed through her now, mindful of prophecies that dripped in her bones also. P’erl, the girl from Europa who she had come to call a friend. She was here, she’d been sent for a purpose. But it now seemed distant to her, as if she was unsure of what to do. She knew she was here to do something, and she knew that all this had been aligned. But she was suddenly unsure of what she herself needed to do. She listened to the frantic static of the light, coursing above and all around her. The pulse of blue, green and even dapples of red illuminations speckling her eyes and popping in her mind like the fireworks of Chu’zin.

As if sensing she needed a little prodding, a giant strike of light exploded from the side of both of the stones, finding the body of the lady of the jars and funneling thousands of years of knowledge, power and magic into her. As her eyes exploded in white light, she saw what the future held, and knew then that everyone was invited to join her. A light given for tomorrow.


snowflake up close

Fall from grace

You no longer know god like you used to.
Angel, spill my blood.
Too afraid to believe your hate.
So justified.
Now fire sky.
Falling like consequence.
With nowhere left to run.
Your damage is done.
With holes in the ground.
That pull you in.
And spin, on devil fingers.
Cursing science and space.

Halfway from home

Jasmine, and if he closed his eyes, the sound of the ocean. The smell though was always the strongest, it was what always clung to him. The ghost that gently haunted, touching his heart. It came and went, sometimes intense, taking him to that place where he always felt safe. Always felt them there.

He looked out of the window at the planet below, the strange orb spinning silently in its indifference to him. The purple hues lifted off the surface as if into a dream, blurring and smudging with the swallowing blackness of space.

Jasmine and warm sand.

He stole himself a moment to close his eyes, feeling the history shiver through him. An irritant beeping began in his ear, and his eyes opened to see the planet once more, slipping slowly from view as a stream of white slithered across the windows. He stepped back, releasing the metal banister from his grasp and turned to the yawning corridor behind him. There were a few people making their way along it, eyes glowing from the screens that ensnared them. Detached from the beauty that space could offer them.

Why should they be so dazzled by its brilliance? Space was taking something away from them. Distance and time.

He had come to terms with his own arrangement, but for the others, he guessed it was difficult still. He walked away from the huge windows, away from the calling of the beyond and made his way back to where he would spend most of his time. Alone, which is what he knew.

In his own little pod, his room of sorts on this floating chrysalis. Many of the travellers would enter one way and leave another. Changed by either their own trauma, or the perils of interstellar travel. He would not of course, he had already changed enough. If anything, he would retrograde, like Saturn returning, back into the pupa of his early days where things were so different.

Alone in his room, he turned off the lights, casting the space in the neon blue phosphorus glow. It was known to aid sleep in these conditions, but he would not be sleeping. How could he? His insomnia was welcomed back the moment he stepped aboard. Nights and days meant nothing up here anyway, so his patterns of rest blended and ebbed away. The blue now though comforted him, like an incubator heat lamp hung over an egg. The yoke of his mind turned, tumbling over the memories of a world he knew was forever lost.

“2.377.8”

The soft voice whispered into the room.

He turned over, the blue phosphorus blinking slightly like a heartbeat.

“Keter.” He replied to the nothing, and the room hung there in silence for a moment.

“Understood.” The soft voice replied, disappearing away like a ghost.

He had become used to these intrusions. They were passengers of course, guests even. Many had exchanged their savings just for their souls to be classed as passengers on this voyage through the stars. These numbers, all the time, numbers. Tracking, and recalibrating. Confirming and informing. Many that he spoke to set their times around these indications of location, celestial longitude. As if the mapping meant something to someone.

Only people meant something to someone else.

The number usually meant the distance, or the time left to arrival. For him, they meant something different. Like the length of rope thrown for safety, slowly falling away. The further he got, the closer he was. The journey beginning at the end, like the thoughts in his head. Chasing his own tail. The room scanned his body, noticing some change in the space. He’d found his was extra sensitive, monitoring his pulse and liquid extraction to the smallest degree. He’d stopped crying long ago, setting off too many checks and queries, the systems unsure of what purpose the leaking ever did.

He wasn’t travelling alone, but everyone thought he was. He sometimes forgot he wasn’t here by himself, but then he was washed in guilt. They were here in both places. In his heart, and in the cargo bay that was probably above his head now, the rotating section of the ship which spun around like a carousel. Their body was secure, he’d been assured. Packed next to boxes of memories and other people’s goods. Machines and provisions for a new life for the others. Well taken care of. He’s welcome to come by any time to check, though he is yet to do so and not likely to ever.

What was in the body really? The soul had left long ago. Even on Damara, the soul had slipped out through the atmosphere, heading back to earth. Back to their real home, where their bones would want to lie. He’d have buried them there if he could, but their family wanted them back. It was the least he could give them, having taken so much from them in their departure.

They would want to say goodbye, not through a video call or hologram burial across the stars.

Earth is where they would come to rest, put into the family tomb and forgotten about in a few years. But he would not forget, for their ghost drowned them now. Breathing into him along with the blue. Always blue, blue, blue.

He closed his eyes, hating himself. Remembering what they had said before they had left, those years ago. That death would snatch them there, on that cold side of space. Yet they would go non the less, for he seemed to want it so badly. And in truth, he did. He’d wanted to get away, try something different. Get as far away from Earth as humanly possible. To build them a new home on a new planet, a place where they would live longer, be healthier and stay together.

Home, they’d said is wherever they were.

“2.5, R HH” The soft voice spoke again, harder this time.

Halfway.

Halfway on their journey, from where they’d left, to where they were going.

He closed his eyes, and though no sleep came, fantasies and dreams washed through his head like a pageant. Illuminating visions that meant nothing and everything to him, silencing him for some time.

He saw a shell, a purple scallop shell before him on its side. All around a mist floated, he could see the water inside, sloshing back and forth as if the little shell were a boat out on rough waves. It began to lift slowly, coming towards him. The water began to ooze and leak away from the middle. Draining out and away into nothing. The shell continued to rise until its profile faced his eyeline. And with a deafening thunderclap, the shell cracked down the middle and he opened his eyes.

Making his way along the corridor, he touched the sides to feel the glass. Just beyond lay space, hidden from him by the greyed colours of the walls. But he knew it was there of course. Many didn’t, they forgot where they were, either by their screen diving or the long bouts of hibernation. It was easy he supposed, to forget you were where you were. Flight, travel. It disrupts violently the ordinariness of life, but in a surreal detached way, it can also be forgotten. Like you were in a waking dream, and things were going on without you.

He turned at the end of the corridor and climbed upwards, through a stairwell which led to the cargo bay area. He didn’t bother to ask anyone or sign in as he was told to do. Instead, he snuck through the huge doors as quiet as he could and was successfully undetected by anyone. He’d been tracked of course, eyes always on them, but nothing had come of it he’d noticed.

Moving steadily, he made his way to section 5t, the ‘living containments’ section. Ironic he’d thought, seeing as everything here was frozen, sleeping, or dead. He could see a red light blinking on the box some distance away, and he hurried forward at the sight of it. Error messages flashed across the box, symbols and numbers which meant nothing to him. He saw the number 16 flash by, and his mind was reminded by their birthday, cakes and smiles, images of kissing and the scent memory of blown out candles attacked him at once. He saw it then, a little pool of water just beneath the box.

“Fuck.” He said aloud to no one.

He scanned his wrist across the glass by the numbers, and the red light stopped flashing, but remained red. He pressed a button at the side and with an artificial exhale, little jets of air hissed the lid open. Whatever the error, or malfunction, the body inside had thawed. The crystal struts that kept the body in position glistened as the liquid inside sloshed around them. The head faced him, but the eyes were closed. He was thankful of that. He didn’t want to see their brown eyes. He would always remember them speckled with golden light, and he knew now the light would be gone.

What to do, what to do.

He stood there, not knowing for some time. The pool of water had spread a little towards his feet, but since the box had been opened, it seemed to have stopped leaking. The display on the side slowly climbing little bars up to a 100% destination. Aiming for perfection.

They looked peaceful at least, they looked like they were unaware of anything around them, even him. And of course, they were. Dead, gone, already back on earth. This body, these bones cared not for the journey they were on now. He reached out then, touching their hair which was wet and trailed slightly in the pooled water around them, floating like leaves in a pond.

The water was warm, and as his feet plunged into the box it rose above his socks and kissed his skin. He plunged down on top, his arms reaching around, through the crystal struts and finding the fleshy body and bones behind at the bottom. He hugged, and squeezed them, his eyes filling both with the water and the tears. He knew they were gone, but he had to hold them. He had to be here now with them, encased in a water filled box shooting through space.

“2.51.” The voice overhead announced, this time echoing in the vast space of the cargo bay.

He closed his eyes, jasmine filling his mind. He was no longer halfway. He wasn’t even before. He was only lost and alone. This he knew was how it would remain. So, he stayed and cried until sleep finally snatched him away, his body drained of energy from all the weeping. The voice overhead continued to call out many more marker points, little dots that now tracked his fall into nothingness.


Heliocentric detours

A story unfolding at the speed of life.
Unplugged or imbedded.
They missed the Milky Way.
Drinking once more from a cup of stars.
Do these words seem familiar?
Rub it on your teeth.
Ugly and sweet
As they slide once more into focus.
Chewing on your past like a shark in a bathtub.
Filled to the brim with sorrow.
Eyes, that are empty.
Calling for tomorrow.
Now your moon hangs heavy in your heart.
Blue, like the subterfuge.
Shrieking past on a shooting star.
All light and brilliance.
Call it what you want, taste it like confusion.
Lifting into that lunar bloodstream.
But be sure to rinse your mouth with the irresistible.
And swallow the sublime.

A Matter of urgency

A slow decline.
That pushes our fingers to the edge.
To find a place more sublime.
Than the tapping keys forever misplaced.
For these bones will crumble, fall and fade.
While the universe will keep on spinning.
Its murky waters in which to wade.
Find the end of that new beginning.
Your fast ascent.
Existence spent.

Forever winter (Part 24)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


Lights shine the way

He was able to subdue the water, it was slowing off anyway as he uncorked the little vial and let the rays of sunshine beams out into the tunnel. The water evaporated in an instant, the light’s rays almost making the water disappear before his eyes. Such power, he thought to himself as he then sped on through the tunnel, sploshing in the occasional puddle that remained on the muddy floor.

He passed a broken box, the remains wedged into the side where a little alcove cut into the walls. A hand buried partially into the sides of the wall which looked soft and wet from the water. The magic seemingly nearly gone from the body, he wondered why it had not lasted. Still, no matter. He rushed on through, knowing the tunnel system well, weaving and slithering down the tunnels; back to where he had left the woman and the boy.

He suddenly came to a fork in the tunnel, which was not a part of his memory. It looked as if the water had burst through from another section, a ghostly side of the tunnel system that he was unaware of. He poked his head around the side, looking deep into the darkness. The light from this vial, which he’d bottled back up, cast a glow and a line which he directed downwards, the tunnel sloping slightly. He thought he heard something. He held his breath and listened. There! That sound, what was it. Singing, someone was singing down here. The lady of the jars, what did she, or any of them have to sing about?

For some reason, this angered the gentleman of the boxes further, as if in the face of all his plans that endeavoured to betray and harm them, they had a cause to sing.

The song grew steadily, echoing now around the hollowed-out tunnel. It sounded choral, enchanting. As if little fairies were whispering delicately into his ears. He shook his head, trying to think straight. But the sound grew stronger, and he was suddenly aware of how tired he was. His eyes now becoming heavy. He looked down the tunnel and saw a little blue light weaving and bopping up towards him. It was like a blue candle as it swayed his way, lulling him along with the ethereal voice of song.

Before he knew it a blue mist was swirling all around him, little hands seemed to be stroking his head, his back and arms. Comforting, calming. The touch of another that he’d not had in so long. He closed his eyes for but a moment, allowing the soothing state to take over. But then he snapped back, his mind present in the now and assessing what was happening. But he couldn’t move, his arms were glued to his side, his eyes couldn’t even scan around him; stuck looking forward as he saw the girl explode forth from the candle like a dam breaking.

He tried to speak but found he could not. He was at the mercy of her now, the girl from Europa; the one he wished to consume and then destroy. She looked at him, her sapphire eyes gleaming in the glow from all around. His muddy eyes glowed back, an anger rising in him much more potent than he’d care to admit. For the gentleman of the boxes no longer knew where he and the magic ended and began. Indeed, the cells of his body were encased now in the darkness which had corrupted like a cancer. She sensed it, she felt it now as she hovered her hand above his heart. The oil inside, dripping and sludging through his soul. He tried to shut his eyes, but it only made them shake and puff out of his head slightly, as if he was holding his breath.

She leant forward and placed her finger on his forehead, and his world turned inside out.

They both breathed in the cold night air as they burst out of the ground. Ezra and the lady of the jars found themselves surrounded by mounds of snow many feet deep at the base of the huge trees of this part of the forest. They also found themselves at the feet of a man that they thought, for a moment, was the gentleman of the boxes.

“Are you alright?” Malthrop asked kindly, extending a hand and pulling them both to their feet.

“We are now, to be out of that damn warren.” Ezra said, dusting off his clothes of the soil that had smeared in their ascent.

“Thank you, yes.” The lady of the jars said, rightening and taking in the sight of the new soul before them. “A pair we must look like”. She added, knowing they both must look like they had been through quite an ordeal, and indeed they had.

“It’s late to be out, do you mind if I ask if you know anything about the light.” Malthrop asked, smiling with his eyes, letting them know he was of no danger.

“And who are you when it it’s at home?” Ezra said, rather curtly.

“Ezra, manners.” The lady quickly added. Malthrop shook his head apologetically.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. My name is Malthrop, I live not far from here. I noticed the strange light from the Mondol stone.” He said, pointing off over through the trees. Just as he said this, Tanker came bounding over the nearest drift of snow and tumbled down to their feet, woofing and hollering. He sneezed where he landed, the snow fluffing off into the night air and then he turned his attention to Ezra, jumping up at him and barking, a friendly bark.

“Tanker, down. Get down.” Malthrop said, starting forth to pull the dog away.

“He’s fine, as long as he’s friendly.” Ezra replied, lowering down to calm the dog, petting his cold fur.

“The Mondol stone you say, is it alive, shining?” The lady asked, excitedly.

“Indeed, it is. Well, it was when I set out. But just as we came across that bank there.” The man said, pointing behind him. “Another light burst up into the sky. Green this time.” He finished. Tanker skirted to his feet now, circling the man before going up to the woman and sniffing her clothes. She stroked his head, soothingly.

“Wonderful. Just wonderful.” The lady said, smiling to herself.

“So, you know what this is all about then? Are you a witch too?” The man asked, though no alarm rippled through his voice.

“Well, I’ve been called that before, but I assure you I’m on the good guy’s side.” She replied.

“Then there’s a bad side?” The man asked.

“There definitely is. And he’s a right old bastard I can assure you!” Ezra added indignantly.

“Ezra, language.” The lady said. “Though I admit, he’s been quite the pebble in our shoe I must say. The gentleman of the boxes.”

“He is no gentleman. What kind of gentlemen goes around trying to kill people!” Ezra cut back.

“He dangerous then?” Malthrop asked, concerned.

“You got that right bud, and he’s about in this forest doing deeds and wanting to make things pretty miserable for everyone around here.” Ezra said.

“I see.” The man said, taking in this new information. He looked up through the trees to where the lights were beaming up from the stones. “And the stones are a part of this? I usually avoid the area, but they seemed to call to me tonight.” He added.

“They are ancient and knowing, they speak to the deeper souls. Though who know love and loss, right and wrong. I sense your heart is recently heavy, I can see it in your eyes.” The lady said. The man was silent.

“Well, we best go and see what all the fuss with the stones are about then, if you think this is the answer to all of this. Would be nice to have a rest and let things be for a while.” Ezra said, rubbing Tanker’s back.

“Come, let us go through together. Safety in numbers, these woods have been pretty dangerous as late.” Malthrop said.

“Dimian.” The lady replied.

“If you say so.” The man said, smiling at her, helping her up the bank of snow that led deeper into the trees.

The boxes and the bones washed their way out of the tunnels and into the clearing, smashing over one another and the stray rocks that strew the area. The slosh of water and snow made for a freezing scene, the blue and green light emanating from the Mondol stones made it look like a giant lake, glittering in an atmospheric hue. As the water flow finally ceased, it seeped away back into the soil, staining the ground with it’s rush of recent travel.

It was down in the ground where the Dimian were still trapped, encased in the power of the gentleman of the boxes. They twitched and murmured, thronged and ached to be free. Suddenly, like a spark of light, freedom overwhelmed them. Their invisible chains were cast aside, and they exploded in movement, their minds frothing and hungry for the power they could feel all around them and could now devour.

Pearl learnt it all then, his memories and thoughts rushed inside her like icy water. She saw and felt the pain, the disconnection, the hatred. Yet deeper, longer back she saw a love, a lighter energy that had never been extinguished, but merely buried in an inner box. He felt no pain as she walked through his life in her mind. Instead, it was as if a boil in him had been lanced, gushing forth all the toxicity.

She looked into his eyes, and she saw humanity. She saw a love for another that had followed her from one planet in the solar system, to another. The eyes that looked back were no different from the eyes of her family on Europa. The light that shone there was made from the same cosmic dust that illuminated those souls on her home planet. The same light, just in a different vessel.

She moved her hand down to his chest and felt his heart beating. Spasmodically thumping in fear and uncertainty. She knew he felt remorse, but there was something else there, something hiding in the dark shadows of his soul. She searched, sending her vibrations through him like sonic waves. It was there, lurking. Something that didn’t want to be found. She pushed on, desperate to find it, her hand feeling the way over his heart. There, a flash of crimson. She nearly got it, her mind hurrying now past trauma and loneliness.

Her eyes flew open, and she gasped.

It was as if it had bit her, little teeth snapping at her soul. She let go of him and he shook his head, shaking off her aura that had swelled around him like a fine mist.

“What, what are you doing?” He coughed up, dry and hoarse. When had he even spoken last?

The girl looked at him, assessing him still.

“It’s too late, it’s all too late.” He said and hung his head.

“Then you need to put it right.” She said, turning her back to him and stepping forward into the tunnel. Like a rope pulling him, he was tugged forward and with a blink of an eye they were suddenly rushing out through the tunnel, the walls blurring as they sped past in the blue stream of light.

“Look, there.” Malthrop said, coming out of the clearing.

They had seen the lights of course, two beams pulsating upwards into the cold night’s sky. But now, coming to the clearing, they could see the Mondol stones, both of them at once. The original stone stood where it always had, cast down from the skies like the mythical peach pit discarded. The other sat across from it, on the other side of the clearing, about twenty strides apart. It’s green light too pulsed up into the sky. It had been forced up out of the ground, as they had seen, now stuck in the open as if it had been there for years.

“They look exactly the same.” Ezra said, as he flicked some snow off his shoulder which had fallen from the nearby tree.

“Perfectly the same.” The lady said, smiling.

“You know about all this then?” Malthrop asked, they all were entranced by the lights given off by the stones.

“A little, that I hope helps.” The lady said, casting her eyes around the clearing. Her smile evaporating.

“Look at all that.” Ezra said suddenly, referring to the boxes and bodies which they could now make out on the floor of the clearing.

“Are those bodies?” Malthrop asked, stepping forward.

“Yes, they are.” The lady said. She had not moved, the wind catching a tear that had crept at the side of her eye. She watched for a moment, as Ezra and Malthrop stepped forth, out of the woods and towards one of the nearest broken boxes. The sound from the Mondol stones echoed around them, like a crackling fire, the light splattering disconnectedly around the scene.

“Who are all these people, all these things?” Malthrop asked, coming across the body of a badger. The fur had been sheared off in places, and a strange little wooden frame had been placed through the skin, forcing its arms and legs outward, it’s eyes swirling with a strange dull red light.

“Don’t touch them, not yet.” The lady said, coming over to him. She knelt down, looking at the creature. “The magic is faint, but still there slightly.” She shook her head.

“People, I can’t believe he did it to people.” Ezra said, standing near to them over a mangled body face down in the grass. “Building some unnatural army!”

“We need to set all this right.” The lady said, standing now and looking towards the stones. “We need Pearl.” She said. “If we all spread out…..” The lady stopped. Malthrop had moved away from her, towards another body which stuck up awkwardly from the ground. The box it was in had crumbled around it but was still intact slightly, the body lulled half out of it like a tongue out of a mouth.

“Malthrop….” The lady said, a sudden realisation coming over her as she saw the scene. “Oh, no.” She said, her heart sinking.

Malthrop bent down and picked the body up into his arms, a sob extended out quietly where they were, but spread quickly and painfully around the clearing, like a pebble dropped into an agonising lake.

It was sudden and explosive, two lights very different from each other tracking silently in the woods suddenly flared on either side of the clearing. The blue misty glow on one side, and the greeny red bubbling on the other. As if it had been planned by some twist of fate, each burst through the trees together, showering those within the clearing with confrontation.


snowflake up close

Loveless Collison

A little, then more.
Nothing is ever enough.
In this world, where hate is king.
He’s an angel of sadness.
Watching it all from space.
Seeing molecules and indifference collide.
What remains, what took him away.
Stained with pain and cruelty.
Reigning like unlucky stars in our eyes.
Walking it back in photonic blackness.
We only leave the ground for a minute.
To spin on the atoms.
And feast, on the junk of these hearts.
With mercury in our eyes.

Delayed doxology


DELAYED DOXOLOGY

The pain turned to gold as the moon rose.
The loss of self-control and the shedding of time.
Dropped like leaves over a diamond lake of soul.
Always late, but now just on time.
Peeling away a skin that once bound.
A body so rooted in the now.
To each side there sits an angel.
Close enough to touch.
Calling me higher, yet I remain.
Being good, being whole, being of service.
The dark begins to melt into light.
The kiss of god, and the whisper of the divine.
Reaffirms my mind, that it all was meant to be.
Now I shudder in doxology.
Praise not just the creator for the air in my lungs.
But the lungs of god, which breathes new air.
I have lost my religion.
And found god where I least expected.
Hidden away, yet smiling at my fall.
Knowing the rise was good for all.

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Pieces of time


PIECES OF TIME

Have you seen?
Have you seen this life we lead?
Fragments of space locked in time.
I stand on this beach, with each grain beneath my feet.
Ground down from rocks and God grinding his teeth.
This sea has washed a thousand shores.
These tears have dried a million times before.
Did I miss something? The big reveal?
My hands are empty as I forget how this feels.
Closing my eyes I feel it wash over me.
These pieces of time we cling to like driftwood.
Was I wrong to run? Or weak to stay?
(I don’t know so please don’t answer)
I cling faster now, each splinter a memory driving its way to my heart.
You can find me here, holding your hand.
Encircling this moment that I wish to stretch out for eternity.
Don’t pity me.
Let us disappear and fall once again into your own jealousy.
Leapfrogging to another piece of your own space and time.
Alone again.
We watch as the beach rises and the moon turns over.
Capturing us forever in this bottle on the sand.

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