2008/01/30

connecting an earthrope



hours after, a dreamer could not stop thinking, "if only i took up medicine, if only i took my basic first aid more seriously, if only i continued on rescue training." a dreamer could not stop that if only he had the capacity, he could have done more, he could have mitigated the damage, he could have seen the signs earlier, he could have prevented a possible loss. a dreamer, ever regretful in his longing for the ideal, thought, he can save the world.

an earthrope still felt, despite the predicament of being half-petrified, the need to take control. perhaps in the last few unknown duration of his existence, the desire to make a final hold, the drive to pitch still a fork... on a rock-cake. "my blue keep-sakes please..." a half asleep, and the other intently gazing, possibly knowing what was happening - trapped on a chair with wheels, a needle sticking from a limp limb connected to a pack of dry earth - gradually sinking in, unraveling the curtain of denial - the other half intently gazing to a dreamer's eyes, looking for a glimmer of hope, a connection to life. regretfully, a dreamer, despite his longing for an ideal, also feared the wailing around him and the shadows that slid away from lifeless buckets of everything.

an earthrope would have to believe.

a dreamer had to. wanted to. trapped in the gaze of possibly a dying man, seeking a connection to a dreamer's world, a dreamer must believe.




2008/01/25

setting...

aged leaves scatter
on a grounded pavement -
dried - crisp - and crackling.

"are we there yet?", the boy asked, impatiently. the sun scalding his skin, scorching the ground - melting like needles remorselessly pricking, ravaging the long stretch to the other end of the coast - the boy had every good reason to ask - impatiently. "a little more" which sounded more like infinitely longer, "a little more."


"we're almost there", the old man said, eyes settled at the waning sun across the brazen sea. "a little more" which sounded as if it were to last to an eternity, the old man patiently waited, "a little more" for the vastness - to flicker out.


a searing sunset,

the auburn sky whispers

a draft of comfort.