Monday, March 24, 2014

Our Theory...

It's 9:48 there's a woman on a Plane to Paris that invites the gentleman sitting next to her, for a coffee when they land.

It's not that he's overwhelmingly handsome, or has a suitable bank account, he shows some originality in his unassuming demeanor; which all adds to the honesty in his eyes. This makes her feel comfortable, it will be a change for her to share time with such a person, but given her record with men of her past, it can only be for the better.

It's 9:49

A traveling Australian explores the Isles of Japan, finds a key in a Buddhist temple inside a bottle with a note that reads: the finder of this key may or may not find it's passage, but know now you have the key"

It is 9:51 a man floats somewhere off the grid in his Sailboat amidst the Pacific Ocean. It has been 13 days since he's been on land or had human contact. He has left his wealth behind him to find something more. Maybe in death.

It is 9:54
A man and Wife have their first child. The pictures of their own childhood flood through their minds, at the baby's first cry. The weight of reality sets in, and he realizes now he is a father, a life at his hands; but as the child calms, he feels more love than he ever has in any other moment, he feels like he could fly but would rather remain grounded to stay with the soul in his arms. His wife though pale, tired, and saline, has never looked so beautiful.

It is 9:57 there is a bill being urged by some of the most powerful people in the world. Some of them know the truth, some of them deny it, all of them intend on rewriting it; but only one intends on ending it.

It is 9:59

A young couple look into each others eyes against the London Skyline, forgetting their college degrees, and parents' wishes. In this moment they question nothing but only answer in silence.

It is 10:00

A painter finishes his work with the last stroke to canvas. His brief observation breathes a vibrance of satisfaction. He thinks to himself it is his masterpiece. He turns from it leaving it unnamed, and onto the ledge of the Venice hotel to look into the horizons, as if was awaiting some one's return.

These things took place in the mind long before they happened. Now they take place just before it all happened...

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Out Theory Continues.....

t's 10:01

A writer sets bedside to his new found beauty amongst the French ineyard. Aside from her he has forgotten all words to say. Disparaged he looks at his hands as if useless, then follows their shadow to the face that lay still sleeping. There in that moment he stops and is caught in the wake of her silent breathing. It plays out like an orchestra, inside a chord strikes and poetry comes like a flood.

It's 10:02

A boy and a girl chase fireflies in an Argentinian plane. Only availing to catching a memory that would become a light to connect them both, while time would separate them inevitably

It's 10:04

A Russian ballerina bows from her greatest moment on stage. A chill shimmers in shock to her body to a shiver, but the Spotlight holds her steady in its warmth. The resounding sound of the ovating crowd lifts her head, and brings the tears. She feels the life of a woman and the dream of a little girl commence as one.

It's 10:05

In a small Pennsylvanian town, A man passing the flower shop girl as he has every day for months, subdues his stammering to strength to say hello. He is rewarded with a smile, he presents a question for a moment of her time smooth enough to be magic. She has always been fond of the humble and quick wit. She can not refuse, and he is found a new man in the eyes of a new friend.

It is 10:06

A man lays on the Grecian coast relishing the time spent in vain, and scribes into the sand; as if could write his life into the earth and let the ocean take it away. He once made great things for a world wide audience, but now he can only conjure thoughts that even the sea birds seem to ignore.

It's 10:09

A elderly woman sits and weaves stories that entertains her granddaughter who cannot understand a word but is in captivation of the lively eyes that shimmer life through the gentle folds of skin, and the smile that wipes away time. Therein, a mentor and student are born through not a sound, but only trust.

It's 10:10

A pianist in an unnamed house on an uncharted isle. Plays the most beautiful sheets of music ever to shape the air, only to never be heard by anyone. There he played til the candles burned out and the sun rose one last time.

These are the things that happened in time's greatest moment. They came but never went, they were remembered in the light that captured them. This is when...

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Our Theory Ends...

It is 10:11

A young boy sits on the water bank in South America and ponders the lines in his hands, as if they were older than his thoughts, and could tell him how to be a man. He wanders in his mind and looks across the pond to find a scarlet bird hovering above the water. An Epiphany arises in young child’s mind, his eyes become valiant and his heart is full. He knows now what he is set out to do.

It is 10:11

A woman sits alone on a park bench in New York, with her clothes her only comfort amidst the surrounding cold. She watches the people skating on the ice as their breaths animate in compliance to the cold, posing as signals of winter and the need for a companion’s warmth. She thinks to call a man a dog might better serve as a compliment. She would trade all her time in the kitchen for one good conversation with a decent gentleman. She feels something warm come over her, looks over her shoulder and all her questions become keys to this moment.

It is 10:11

A elderly Japanese gardener works on the last of his beds, as he hears the slow foots steps on the cobblestone. He looks up and there is his love he has been missing for decades. A moment of silence equals the absence of their hearts’ beat. Tears flow at the burst of embrace, and forgiveness is found.

It is 10:11

A missing novelist looks from the Chilean mountain range into arctic shore. He observes the distantant waves and how their crash is lost into a whisper by the their echo reaches him with only a cold breeze that brisks the inside of his sleeve. He thinks of how it is like the memory of her manifested into this last tangible experience. He finishes a note, and sends it away in a handmade hotair baloon. It sets off into the Horizon as his last fleeting hope with the wind as it's only companion and time not granting him grace.

It is 10:11

A man alone from his past, travels the Turkish mountains with only a walking stick, and his thoughts as company. He stops on a peak midway up, overlooking the seemingly unfound beauty of the world that he sees now. He takes in the color and the calmness of nature. He feels doubt in all that humankind has taught him, and trusts more in what may not be in this world. As his heart beats one last time, he thinks of his daughter, and how they danced, how she told him stories that made him feel like king in her eyes, and a boy in her heart; he thought of her eyes on him, trusting the world he would give....then he felt his soul lift off his bones and into the open sky on into the great unknown.....

These are the thing that happened in the moment it all ended. All that we could do could not ever be done again. It is now before that time, that we can do all things that are given to us to do freely, until that time.....

Friday, March 21, 2014

Our Theory Remains...

It's 12:01

The clock wanes to it's end. A child hold his first tear at his mother's bedside. He looks at the deep shadows that lace the room in mystery. He understands so much now, but his curiosity grows into something that is larger than his imagination can feel. He turns from the shadows to see his mothers sullen but solemn face vigil in the moon's scattered light that rests upon her like a feather from a seraphim's wing. He let's a smile escape him. It's in this confidence he has learned to become a man, and knows how to trust, and to care. He says good bye and leaves her with a kiss.

It's 12:03

A young woman finds a bottle on the shores of pacific isle. Inside a trinket that resembles the gifts her early holiday memories. A gift from her grandfather. A promise that was eventually broken; and now this new but familiar trinket trapped in this bottle catches a dawning light on it's golden rim allegorical to a new beginning. A new spark of life resides in her chest again for the first time and she looks into the ocean and finds love again.

It's 12:05

A man stands in the swells of darkness as the lights go dim on stage as his voice echoes the last of what he had given to the crowded audience. His face wrenched in tears from the sadness on display, his chest full of chemical rush from the pounding of life inside. Silence is foreboding, and he hears only the vibrations of his pulse. Then it is broken as a whisper is littered into the still air followed by an exalting cheer of the unseen crowd the curtain falls as his spirit rises and he the boy inside is released making this moment the marriage of performance and purpose.

It's 12:06

An elderly couple sit over tea in the bungalow over looking the Mediterreanean shoreline. Across the cold plane of the table reaches one hand carefully with the knowledge and wisdom of decades of endearment of the other as if orchestrating a perfect signal of truce. The other, nervous as if it were the first night they met, puts her hands in his. The youthful smile releases a tear and the other hand follows. Her eyes erase the discontent that had been measured between them. Trust is here again in the last days of their life, and love here doesn't know any end.

It's 12:07

A fisherman writes in his tattered journal another listless verse trying to find the right words to say to his long lost son as aimlessly as he would if he were searching for a siren in the fogs of the sea. In that moment he raises his pen and looks from behind the fur rims of his coat and sees in the distant aquatic edges of the earth, a sign that spells it all out for him. His heart for the first time in decades finds warmth and sends a rush to his hands that move in a confident prose. Though words a grave, to him it is love they will save.

It's 12:09

A little girl in the city park outside the busy German streets, admires the bouncing colors of the sun refracted off the bubbles floating from an unknown place. She looks through them as if to provide a different reality. In them she finds herself, a world of where she knows no limits, only where she is free to imagine a smile for every creature as a friend, and every motion is a dance. She looks behind her at the orphanage, the adults in their own world, making decisions she did not understand and doubted the decisions understood her. She looked back to find the bubbles again but only an empty space where the sun beamed through the canopy of trees almost as if presenting a doorway. An option for her to go where no one had gone before. She stood from her place, and went on to find more than this world could give her.

It's 12:10

A man traveling by balloon writes endlessly in the colds of the high wind. Words with no credit but an endless amount of value go onto thin pages that fall like feathered ice from a corpulent cloud down to the complacent populous below. He finds discovery in his long silence. How long he will go even he does not know. It's love that has driven him this far, and death that sets the pace. With the world at his feet, he closes his eyes and it's her that he sees. Unfiltered and untainted with the offerings of what is tangible, he orchestrates all he knows in hopes that it is with him that she one day goes.

These are the things that made us. These are the events that go on like a very well known secret. And it all goes on making the smallest the greatest, and in time we will know when it all begins again...

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Our Theory Still Remains

Hand in hand head on chest each breath was in sync with the family of fireflies that accompanied their solace in a summer field as they lie and watch night sky silently dance in carrousel fashion. An embrace that felt like a promise, like life itself, seemed it was there all along, before they were born. A whisper and a connection when their eyes break the silence into a tear, made it all feel like it they were starting again from the very first of moment of time.

An elderly lady looks at her hands and relishes all the love they had given; and thinks of how much more they could have shared. The creases remind her of the smile in her grandchildren as they smiled each time they look at her in a glow. The tips felt like the end of time, and an allegory to her walk in this life. The space beyond them: the edge of eternity where she will finally dance that childhood dream.

There were two men on the cliff top overlooking a valley lush in aged green and dressed golden in the dawning light. They took a breath and felt the moment's increasing resolve. Their legs were giving out from the night's climb, but they felt they could fly. With a slight laugh of accomplishment and a glance, two friends with bond of brotherhood that is spelled out in their mutual memories.

A woman sits in a bedroom darkened in darkened by the night looking in the mirror.  Though, listless and alone, she is confident in her solace, but sometimes the cold side of the bed could be a bit warmer. Patient for company she turns away and flips through her photo albums of a childhood she would not change, the wall time she climbs she hopes is worth the wait.

A man comes in from another day of sliding doors and waiting lines. Endless deadlines construct his schedule to a box, promising numbers to give him the comforts he seeks, though he comes into the kitchen to find his wife wiping away a tear pulling the curtain of smile to hide the prick of her pain that swells within her home.

A young girl studies the light though bubbles as they gleam colors of the rainbow like her imagination was manifest into the summer breeze. She saw the dragonfly dance in between them like a knight on a mission. I gave her a wind off his wings as if a memento to remember him by. She then desired to be able to enter such a world, doubting that this world could hold such a hero so charming.

A discover of all that is, stands over a cavern of something ancient. Dark and wondrous, he feels his childhood questions disintegrate into answers as they give way to new questions. He feels curiosity pressing his hands to discover the work of his ancestors that he may possibly keep their stories on a page, and learn of the greater things beyond this world.

An old man aged in wisdom and artifact of physical trial, stares at his artworks held on the stone walls of his palace. He holds a hand against one in particular he had created in the wake of a dream he once had as his wife had laid ill by his side. He painted it all with one hand as they other held her's. It told a story he could not bare repeat, but only carry on til the day he meets her again on that distant plane. He observes the strokes and color til a tear escapes down his solemn face. Satisfied with all the time spent in these hallways, he lights a flame and lays it to the ground. As it climbs the walls that have long been his comfort, he walks out shedding the weight of life into a dance he has long waited for.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Season's Fall

He sat bedside to his mother, staring at the palms of his hands; studying the intricate lines as if they would return the answers beyond his 6 years of age. As his thoughts drew to a halt like an anchor drawn aboard, he lifted his heavy head to see the frail body before him. She lay ill and lit to a pale glow set off by the moonlight that poured through the large window. She breathed in slow and heavy, causing her chest to sink so each time it seemed that gravity itself was causing her body to collapse. Her chin slowly fell to her shoulder as her weighted eyelids lifted slightly that the pale-blue in them, that was once so brilliant and now dimming to grey, beamed into Ellom’s eyes.

Her finger moved slightly with infinitesimal strength, his heart leapt and caused his hand to touch hers as if to calm the movement to save her energy so he could keep her as long as possible. Her body swelled as she drew in a long breath, and the vibrations in her throat were prelude to the symphony of her voice. “Ellom." Ellom looked at her with wide with joy of her words, but full of fright that they would be her last. "You will be the man I always wanted to see in this world...." she drew in another breath, this time with a slight grimace that flashed across her face that she quickly threw off like a bird to a storm, so she could have this breath to speak to her son. "…because you are the son I always wanted."

With that a smile thinly curled across her sunken face like a cloud against the sky, and a tear slipped from her glistening blue eyes dispersing into the pillow. Ellom’s heart was pounding so hard he could hear its tumultuous beat in the dead silence that blanketed the moment. His mother's eyes began to close, their glisten now blotted out like the sun into the horizon, and her smile drew into their lips supple slumber.

Ellom's grip on her hand grew tight in his reflex to awaken his mom. She could not be gone. The unstoppable nightmare could not be now. His lips bore a tremble, as new tears began to heat his eyes and gradually rain the carpet he use to play on just years ago when he was small enough for her to pick him up and hold him and tell him how much she would always love him.

But 'always' came to end, and Ellom was alone. Sobbing, he buried his face into his mother's hand, for maybe it would rise to wipe his tears away. But when no movement answered his disparaged cry, he looked up onto her sunken face. A jolt of care, and promise that he'd always had for her grew out from within like new flame, and he felt the soul of valor and responsibility of a man take him over. Thoughts of how he would be that man right now, if her eyes would just open. He would take care of her and make her a happy woman. So he took in her beauty, and gave hope one more chance.

But her eyes did not open, and he was stricken with a sadness that broke him down into the crest of her neck crying so hard he hoped she could hear him from wherever her soul may be. The smell of her lotion still alive and still ten thousand graces to his senses, drew memories of all their embraces. All the times she made his days golden. Her touch on his cheek, the constant smile she wore when he was in the room, now darkened as the shadows that swallowed his fetal form.

Then he remembered he could not stay. He would make the phone call, and they would be here in the morning. He raised his head and looked at the old grandfather clock once more. It seemed to stand taller than ever. Brooding and foreboding as if it were Death itself. Time was ever against him; but he had to do what was necessary.

He wrote his mom a good-bye note coupled with the daisy he'd picked for her that day, and laid it on her shoulder. He set her hands folded in a calming form atop her chest as if to say she was ready and prepared to go where she has gone. He stood in a moment that seemed to slow with his heart's wane, just so he could have the last image of the greatest love he’d known with him indefinitely. He bowed down to grace her cheek one last time with a kiss. His lips lighted to her like a butterfly to a flower, and remained there for the longest they ever had. Still pressed he drew in a breath, and lifted himself from her; opening his eyes from the moment's last embrace and never letting her leave his sight. He took one step back then, as if taking a great leap from a cliff’s edge, turned from her and continued down the darkness of the hallway picking up his one satchel and walked out the door leaving the only place he had ever known into a world he did not.