In the place I want to find, the fall never ends. A paper airplane, once it reaches the top of its arc, descends forever. A drink, once spilled, spills toward the ground forever. The leaves, when they drop, float slower and slower until they seem still. Every time there is a kiss, a green leaf turns yellow, a yellow leaf turns orange or red, and a new bud opens.
Once they have been falling for years, slower and slower, even the leaves and feathers, even the scraps of wrapping paper light enough for the breeze to have lifted, rest firmly enough to stand on. Rising from the middle of our sacred field, an android has gathered and arranged them into staircases, a maze wild as a briar patch, as colourful as November. At rest, he leans on his broom and his shovel.
You are a couple steps ahead of me, singing. Somehow you always are. By some trick of the dome of the sky, I can hear your voice behind me.
I have looked for the end of the world. I was cautioned against this. Many others, having seen it proven mathematically that we are all enclosed in glass, have looked for the boundary and failed. Some say that the android has touched it. Even if that is true, it is of no help now, slumped, as if in sleep, until there is enough material in the sky again to warrant sweeping it into a new staircase.
At a sharp fork in the staircases, you come almost completely around and begin a descent. These are the only times you face me. I want to ask you something, but you touch a finger to my lips, and now I am not sure what my question was, or even if I really had one. I wonder if your eyes always look like this, I rarely see them.
There are people, also, trapped in their falls. It is said this is the only way to become immortal. The fall never ends. You are right to avoid questions. There are no questions that ask, only songs.
In the place I want to find, I see blue oceans; deep, dark, salty oceans… I taste it like I tasted you, in that far away land, when I was in quest for the unattainable. Barely within reach, but not quite… As fish swim next to me, brushing my cheeks, and we swim by the corals, you and I, our bodies touching each other, I think to myself: is this what it means to live, breathe, love? Then I imagine a kiss… the kiss we shared… in my dreams… soft, uncertain, affectionate. Then i think to myself, yeah this is it. It’s gotta be. Otherwise why bother? And I smile, for the recollections to come :)
the place i want to find has many wheat-fields. some are big, and others small, and some have pretend-crop circles hidden in them. the sky is vast and a beautiful light blue during the day, sometimes with a white fluffy cloud covering the sunshine that never leaves. at night it’s clear, and stars reveal their constellations to us. planes fly overhead and we can count the headlights. many flowers grow on the path-side where we walk between fields to mountains and rivers and forests. the groups of friends laugh and have fun, and the couples hold hands and kiss often, and i imagine us a couple, always together even amongst a crowd of friends.
and i’m almost certain i’ve imagined my paradise.
i wanna find an island where i will live but alone…
… or i wanna find a place where the people are nice and they wouldn’t dare cross boundaries if they can’t figure me out on their own.
… in that place, people glory in their own distinct qualities and they respect others distinctiveness, as well…
… they long to grow together and they’re there to help each other…
… they see the beauty not actually in the place but in the ones they’re spending their finite moment with…
any place would be beautiful if I am but with a person whose heart is in the right place…
kindred souls with hearts of gold…
kindred spirits looking at life as one long, intertwined purposeful journey…
… otherwise, i prefer an island where I am but alone…
the place? the season? they’re not solely my reason…
Did you want any lightning rods?
Guess I’m stuck playing herald for Dark’s Pandemonium again, leading the October People in another festival of their hunt for new attractions.
If you missed it, buy some new sneakers.
If you still don’t get it, Ray Bradbury missed you…
got it but the why remains.
In the place I want to find, night forever reigns; a comforting darkness of secrets and whispers on the edge of hearing, where moonlight illuminates but does not define and forms are suggested but never truly revealed, and stars trace patterns through the sky that we watch and muse and share and laugh, but always soft and always quiet so as not to disturb the tranquility of moonbeams dancing through the leaves and warm winds flowing from the hills and gentle song and loving eyes and silent words that mean the world.
Lovely.
Forever Autumn…forever renewal. Forever the end and new beginning.
Forever the Jubilee.
I’m yet to find a place I want to find.
Perhaps I’m holding myself back, restricting myself to things I’ve seen or wanted to see, trying to put them together in different ways to make me happy.
In the place I want to find, I don’t need to move things to make them happy.
I can be happy under gray skies, or above red leaves,
a softly smelling carpet of nature
that makes me think of things I used to have.
In the place I want to find,
I won’t need anything.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too
(Keats)
we played like children past the headstones. snow fell from a tree above us and swirled into the air; was the snow moving, or only the wind? the white calm tumbling from the sky seemed to mute all the colors and sounds of the graveyard. snowflakes were beading into water droplets in your hair. you seemed to pause for a moment, and lit a cigarette.
I may be young, but the place I want to find
Is a place where it’s warm. There are thunderstorms, and sunny days. People don’t lie here. They accept the things that seem odd. And forgive, but don’t forget. Questions aren’t always answered, that would make life to easy. But things are less questionable. You can tell who to trust just by looking at them. The one you love, will love you back. Worrying about the future will always happen. But here, you know that as long as you have the one you love, you’ll be fine. And you know that person loves you back.
yes I’m a dreamer
In the place I have yet to find, I gather my wishes like coins and drown them in the wishing well. The drops of rain are but guiltless tears and there are painted mornings of gold and spun Valentine evenings.
The world falls down (it flees your footsteps, as only I will trace them) and time is reordered, but the dawn was breaking the bones of your heart like twigs. Like twigs… The departed are but cities of dust and bones, now, and it is here that I meet you, love of my life. Your eyes can be so cruel, just as I can be cruel.
Your genius is not for that monochrome world, my love, my beloved, my golden sorrow. It’s for mine.