How soft are the walls?
My thoughts drifting with the clouds across the blue sky seem in place. Seem quite normal. What wasn't normal was the angle of my life. Also nagging at the back of my mind was, why exactly am i lying here surrounded by all these broken memories? Then there was the dull ache in my heart. I am drowning in white noise and fluid reality is melting away.I could just make out the remains of the memory i was dwelling on barely 5 minutes ago. Well i assume 5 minutes ago. However chaos seemed to suggest that time had been displaced. Displaced along with the strange fractured thoughts that span in the dark cloud of nothing, that hovered endlessly and unforgivingly above.
There are times when you sit and the expectancy of the moment takes over. You know! When every thought and sound seems so lucid that you can feel and touch the air. Know instinctively that the child will step into the path of the oncoming vehicle. It's as if you are just slightly ahead of time itself. Then the moment is captured, frozen, and you are so sure that something pending is waiting to happen. And yet the moment slips on, passes by, and people carry on their way unnoticed and undisturbed.
But this time was different. This time the expectancy of the moment did erupt.
It is somehow strange hearing the dull thud of your mind slam against its walls. These are the words i remember writing down just before i fell into the dryness of the past. You see, I was at my desk when i was caught by the quietness of the future. No agitated voices from the hollow halls. No sign of any anxious dreams. So i walked across the essence of my mind towards my favourite place. Well the wall of an old cemetery that is. This was a place where i could see through the glass and listen to the whisper of a lost soul. This was when the moment came. This was when i observed myself through the distance of every memory.
The odd thing is, i recall all this, and yet it still does not strike home as being strange. I mean why should it! My mind is used to dancing in the flames. I can not deny I spend a great deal of time listening for the echoes of voices which no longer exist. Taking part in events and scribing thoughts that push beyond the corner of any reason. And yet here i was drifting with the clouds, laying next to my own thoughts, recalling writing at my desk, watching myself through a window, sitting on the wall of an old cemetery.
They say just before you die that your life flashes before you. All the pain all the sorrow and maybe all the joy. So is this where i am right now? Just in the final ashes of my life, or am i still at my desk writing and thinking about the expectancy of the moment, or maybe i am still just sitting, waiting on the edge of that old cemetery wall.
How soft are the walls where you dwell?
Time to take the pills :-)
© Rik - 07/03/2007
Words by Rik
Read 957 times
Written on 2007-03-08 at 02:45
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
Forest |
|
Kathy Lockhart |
|
kath |
|
Zoya Zaidi |
