I have been
to places where cotton wool clouds sing. To places where milky snow bleeds sun
and gleams like sweat straight from the green eyes. To places where dolphins
talk and to places where songbirds play in choir.
I pause.
Some islands
sprouting love, some soporific oceans with their hands spread to greet the
boats in their hearts, some voluminous tree lands producing blustery breeze,
some dingles knitting the hobbit chronicles, some valleys designing the
manifesto of dreams.
I passed the
country of lunatics, the palace of blasphemy, the street of business, the
traffic of unnamed philosophers, the house of lust, the home of a scientist, the
room of separation, the window of a chaste dreamer. I have been drifting like a
white pollen.
I met one
man with obscene scripts, one hero of sunken brides, one villain with truth
shedding off his eyes, one gladiator with hundreds of swords, one aviator who
does not get off the flying instrument, one king with evil valet, one girl with
pure lips, one woman with profound strength, one upper class lady who drinks
among dishonest maids, one princess who died for the beggared, one queen who
bathed in young nymphs’ tears.
I witnessed what
they say ‘supernatural’. I watched beautiful witches on their broomsticks,
artists in their invisible clocks, card tables rinsing in blood, tiny glasses
clinking in refusal, sweet smell of mists playing with horses, blue moon
laughing in a distant land.
I pause.
The mausoleum
waits for me to float around, like the rustling mid-wind and write and
recite the warmth I carry in my
tattered blanket. They assemble in my body to listen to the tales. All men and
women and all, who are yet to speak. They
want the music in me to lyric their souls. The verses blended in love to stage
a new tale.
I abide. I
sing.
3 comments:
I really, really loved the phrase 'milky snow bleeds sun'. It reminded me of Dylan Thomas.
These journeys are not new. John Bunyan and Dante had had their moments in the sun, before they started making rounds. Your journey, I suspect, is much like another Dylan. There are signs of the hard rain song all over it! People like me, who are afraid of luminosity, wait for rainbows. Keep conjuring up rainbows, for Dylan, and, for me, if you will.
For Dylan, for you and for me!
:-)
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