Oh, how she moves. Her body is the personification of earth’s beauty and glory. He watches as her curls bounce like the autumn leaves that encounter a brisk wind. He studies the leaves as they dance in the wind; brown, red, and orange in hue. He listens as her words flow like lyrics making out the melodies of the cool clear streams in the valley. He walks beside the river to listen to the rhythms as they ebb and flow.  Her fragrance is like a meadow consumed by lavender; royal, regal, smooth, and inviting. He dances through the meadow and blunders to his knees, only to be greeted by the soft blanket that is her scent. Her essence is a prism of colors, broken down into vivid strands of light. Her touch, her touch is a feeling he longs for. In reaching out for her, she speaks;

Life is like a rainbow yet to be colored in
Trying to find it’s purpose from within…within

Cool like a summer’s breeze that tickles my nose
Warm like a winter’s fire that roasts my toes

Swift is my love
Just like a shooting star
In the night sky

Quick as it comes
It goes
Asking no questions why

Wanting to wander free
But so contained is my love
For you
Like drops of dew.

He does not understand her warning. The closer he attempts to get to her image the greater the distance becomes. He remembers how he felt as a child. His mother would turn on the water hose on a hot sunny day. He would watch as the water, and the sun collided to create a spectrum of colors. He wished to seize those wondrous hues and preserve them in his pocket for later. Upon reaching out for them, however, his hand would slip right through the mirage and take the colors with it. This brought him great sorrow as a child, and it brings him great sorrow now.

          During his travels, his thoughts comforted him. There, he could momentarily escape from the limitless expanse that made up his eternal surroundings. But even in the comfort of his own thoughts, the obscurity began to creep in. Like a vague shadow, his bright and vivid visions became dull. His thoughts were tainted by his ominous surroundings. He could never be certain of when he was thinking, being, living. Everything was so monotonous, so mundane, so lifeless. And he was all too conscious of the matter that he became repulsed by the  notion of his bleak and colorless thoughts. Only when he submitted to his unconscious mind did his visions come to life.

Escape
Escape to that place
Escape to that nocturnal state
Where subconscious thoughts become reality

Just like the wind
Unseen but certain are the images
That can only be obtained
Behind black lids

For when the crease of light is let in
One is incapable of making out
The images that can only be
Obtained by the subconscious mind

As the rays of light slip beyond the horizon
Rush to that safe place
Where there is only one key
That unlocks the images that only one can see

         Alas, the void had become his version of light? As if opening his eyes to the absence of light was his new day. A paradox that can only be understood by the man living in this desolate lot alone with no vices, no color, no peace of mind. He was eager to escape to the wondrous alternate reality that he created in his unconscious mind. A world that he manipulated into his own, full of color, joy, patterns, shapes, sounds, rhythms…her.  A vague form appeared. The black silhouette of women surround by rays of retro light. She lived in a world of fiction that could be swept away with the blink of an eye, or the opening of an eye, because that would signify the “light” being let in, or his new found version of day. Waking up, for him, was a dreadful notion. Leaving her behind in his dreams; unthinkable. 

To be continued....January 12, 2012

          Everything was void, and the absence of light engulfed him as he traveled through an
abyss with no permeable end. He felt the room was deep, deep in the sense that if he walked for
ten miles he would touch no walls, hear no voices, and see no light. Even still, his journey began.
He sat forth in search to find a blemish, a chasm that he could relate to reality. Nevertheless,
faultless the surfaces of the uninhabited area remained. Weighed down by gravity and limited by
his lack of ability to take flight, he groveled on hand and knee. Hours like this went by without
thought. With no concept of date or hour, sleep did not seem imperative. Yet the need hit him
like the sun hits the horizon when it is the moon’s turn to shine. As his eyes sealed to slumber,
his mind began to race. The only differentiation he had between open and shut eyes were his
dreams of color that only danced behind closed lids.


Psychedelic swirls of color
Fill the vacant room
Floating on grey clouds
And silver crescent moons


All is void
Except for the colors of the infinite night
Forming shapes and phantom shadows
That can only be seen in the absence of light


The retro squirms of color
Take shape without reason or rhyme
Following with closed eyes
is a wondrous waste of time


In the act of focusing in
They slowly fade away
And only traces of the rainbow
Can be seen in the light of day


          As he opened his eyes the colors came to an abrupt halt, and in an attempt to retain them,
he fastened his eyes. He sealed his eyes so tight that tears began pouring through. Oh how he
wished he could see the trail of water pouring to the ground. He could not. He could only feel.
And feel he did as he realized too late that that may very well be the last time he dances with that
sort of beauty ever again. The shadows of his new reality engulfed him once again as he
continued to painstakingly search for the cause of the indefinite night. The hope that he may one
day find a crevasse remained his sole beacon of light as he groped through the vacancy.




Chapter 2 coming January 5th ...