05-01-2014, 07:45 AM
The dreams continue, every night, persistent, progressive only when they seek out that movement. There are forms and they are forms and within the forms is the present. Here is a moment out of time when every other moment seems hollow, false, created rather than lived.
Now.
Now.
Nothing but the now.
And they become familiar or maddening or comforting-strange. They become ritual. They become - perhaps - a sort of hollow home.
It would be easy to drift into them. To live only here, in the strange exactitude of dawn-or-dusk, with the sky and the silent woods. The wheeling birds, dark against the sky. The upright and righteous clapboard buildings, the frizzle of snow on the bare dark earth. The smoke in the sky.
--
And it all continues, changing only when they change it, when they move the dreams forward, when the dreams move forward, until, one night,
April 30 into May 1 to be exact,
each and every one of them hears echoed across the wintry-dawn,
"You RUINED it. You RUINED it. You RUINED it. You ALL RUINED it.
"Just GO."
---
A choice. A choice. A choice.
Now.
Now.
Nothing but the now.
And they become familiar or maddening or comforting-strange. They become ritual. They become - perhaps - a sort of hollow home.
It would be easy to drift into them. To live only here, in the strange exactitude of dawn-or-dusk, with the sky and the silent woods. The wheeling birds, dark against the sky. The upright and righteous clapboard buildings, the frizzle of snow on the bare dark earth. The smoke in the sky.
--
And it all continues, changing only when they change it, when they move the dreams forward, when the dreams move forward, until, one night,
April 30 into May 1 to be exact,
each and every one of them hears echoed across the wintry-dawn,
"You RUINED it. You RUINED it. You RUINED it. You ALL RUINED it.
"Just GO."
---
A choice. A choice. A choice.
But my heart is wild and my bones are steel
And I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free.
- Phosphorescent, Song for Zula
And I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free.
- Phosphorescent, Song for Zula