Saturday, August 18, 2012
We are dressed in black today, matching the night. Black holding all our purpose. Every color and shape, each breath taken and lost. For all that were and all that could be.
The clouds have parted, granting my midnight wish and I stare at a dozen silver moons, a collection of aged children of rock and light.
There are a trail of silver dollars illuminating the path from bed to window, from window to door. Each step is first memorized and then taken with care.
There were maps and drawings and we practiced one tiny moment among moments. Bursting, we feed it and the circle grows, a wide band of black holding each moment. We take it in, drinking, lapping up the dribbles along the edges.
It is all here, not one thing forgotten. We cannot list them all and yet their names are etched into the wrinkles and lines, the scars over her breasts and the wisps of hair misplaced.
The boat sails and I remember, a thing in motion is excited, confused and ready for toppling. Bubbling up and spinning, the lights direct my attention, moving from human to bird to car to cat.
You cannot stop me as the colors come and STOP! You don’t witness, you mustn’t.
The tale must be fulfilled as written and the pages are there, may I direct your attention to the dried up hands telling our story. Look into the black eyes beside the window, nothing has been forgotten. Transience, mortality, they are for others outside this space. With the candles lighting our chamber, we sit as the circle. Bodies are the wires for light, light is the shape of ecstatic motion. We are still, silent but for occasional gasps.