Conversations drag on from the diner to the salon… across the surface of days and through the depths of nights… they are but mere remembrances… for time is Nemesis… it is a verity that comes with an easy complacency. What we know or what we say of tortured souls resides in the distance between orbiting dancers and the strength of the bow across the strings… through our stationary eyes the room spins and whirls. All things are relative but the relationships can get perverse.
Intelligence is the access to the grey boxes of the remembered… sorting through the piles and selecting correctly the required… brilliance is to assemble the whole from a smattering of the few… intuition is to set aside the boxes and simple know… but what then of truth or faith? Those are but trees in the natural forest… wavering boughs tossed upon the winds of temptation… the shadows of the blind across the azure.
Absolute is a stone tied by a chord of folly to the neck in a graceful swan dive into frigid waters… absolute is an anchor secured in the sea bed… absolute is the folly… the harlot… the illusion in the mirror seem through wanting eyes. Verity dispels the absolute from the eyes, from the heart, and from the hands.
The neck is a curse for it elevates the head to the belief that thought is above the heart…< we look with our eyes yet we see with out heart… the thin spindle of the throat chokes the flow… the gurgling loss as darkness descends is dispelled… I thought… I felt… incoherent memories… the absolute truth is mere veneer… mere illusion… the strangled vision of desire and want… the lost illustrations of a closed book.
The grey box of absolute lies open and empty floating of a river of remorse… the effluence of regret carries the drowning memories to the sea of despair… the ice flows of abandoned love shattered of the shores in fragments of sun drenched glitter… melting away from shattering shards to smooth pebbles… dissolution towards oblivion… the absolute rendered inert and temporary. For time is Nemesis.
Two years on...greetings from B.C. - I am slow. Very, very slow. It can take me a long time to start to feel settled in a place, so it should be no surprise that two years after moving back to...
4 years ago