Absolutely Miles Away …too many clouds, too little time…

enquiring

Fearfully floating. It’s so cold up here. But there is nowhere else to hide on this particular day. There are no acres of headspace, anything remotely free has been chained to a tethered weight, encased in a creaking and stained wooden box complete with vice situated outside. All the hopes and fears sit outside, slowly turning the handle, looking on, and bringing all walls together. An inordinate compression.

Those sentances we throw at each other by manner of utterance are completely disconnected, yet they are starting to make sense, slowly and ever so partially. What sort of meaning did you want seved up as a side-salad with your ten-course meal of words today? Are we opting for something slightly along the ironic route, or a hint of truth garnish? Are these partial truths we speak to each othere merely told as lies to encase something beautiful? I wish I could ask for the answer, but as ever, I am bereft of this delicately inquiring language.

We search for an ethereal congruence in a quietly barren land.

And yet, once I thought I had forgotten (but forgotten that I had remembered), an image of everything and nothing slips its way into peripheral vision. It lies there dormant, listlessly waiting to be stroked on the cheek and gently awoken with gentle care.

Suddenly, a small shard of reality penetrates this state of rest, prompting the supernova. It becomes all that can be seen for miles around, as if the peripheral has encompassed all, despite my own pleading. I push it away, trying to be careful of how much time I give its opinions space. Perhaps I should listen, give it a chance, let its small-formed ideas take root and end up growing, learning, creating in tree-like branches. We could even sit and entertain its ideas underneath its shady canopies, trying to hide our eyes from the truth.

Those small ideas; those delicate words. I wish you could see them the way I can. For when you dream at night, do your dreams take flight? Do you let them into your head until they become all you can see when you wake?

It’s all I see when I wake.

This is a beautiful piece.

I have been trying to think what to say in response to this post since I first read it.

But I can’t.

So I will second both Anne and Annie.

in this afternoon bereft of further words, yet full of so much, thank you all for your comments.

Anne, Annie and An!

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

It’s great.

I am speechless too. You must have had the encyclopedia of the human psyche stuck in your head or something.

Very nice.