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...

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