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I lie awake in fractured consciousness; my shattered mirror thoughts are stars that call my name, recollecting a different space and identity. The light is pallid on limpid skin; the beams are connected to yesterday but move too fast to see tomorrow. 'These fragments don't fit!' I hear someone shouting. My own mouth parrots back a chorus of echoes as though the repetition, rebounding from the darkened sphere around me, will teach unity of thought and purpose. I can still feel the tired remnants of it, enthroned like a king among bone and sinew fortifications, sending out messengers who return with the required tribute paid in baskets of mistaken inspiration. Pages flutter like azure white butterflies; their words leaking, an incipid perspiration, onto my velvet companion.
Awakening on a sun-scorched, black African plain, I find no desire to feel this cracked soil beneath my feet. Instead they run off in search of the source of the Nile. I am left to drift, undulating like an enchanted cobra, on the vibrating liquid breath of the moon. I'll lie here; the source can come to me. The pieces of my body are enticed by exotic sea urchins' spines and moon-beam shaped suspended vegetation.
'A half a sphere is better than no sphere at all, ain't it, mate?' They come to suspend their manifestos from the limbs of a dead tree and then fly off with scarcely the flutter of a raven's wing, but calling, screaming like a mandrake root ripped from the parched land.
I am alone and ancient, beyond years and beyond corporeal: my roots no longer claim the earth in which they lie as their own; they no longer draw with charcoal fingers over the parchment earth.
Just another cup of tea. The tiny spoon reflects back my image, inverted and interpolated. Something is missing. Ah, yes, the source of the reflection is nowhere to be found. Return to the start and begin again in millions of shattered mirror thoughts. Somewhere, in the distance, there is singing and a child dances barefoot in a crimson field of wild grass.
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mmmm...Dali in typed font....
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Posted by Shannon
on 2008-07-06 14:57:07
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this is beautiful stickman.. i really wish i had your talent. so when exactly are you going to start putting out some novels hmmmmmmm? :p
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Posted by pixierose
on 2008-07-08 20:37:16
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WOW! Very intriguing! I like how you used creative vocabulary to express your thoughts, I always say think that intelligence comes from the way a person speaks. It's a very beautiful writing. By the way, thank you for the comment, I really appreciate it! I hope we will become friends!
Sunshine
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Posted by sunshine6
on 2008-07-08 21:11:25
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This is absolutely divine Mr. Stickman!
I adore the richness of our language and I'd so love to see you get publishing. Well written complex vocubulary taking the reader on a rollercoaster ride through the outreaches of her mind. Stunning. xx
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Posted by Merlyn
on 2008-07-10 10:14:31
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One word. Beautiful.
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Posted by Haylo
on 2008-07-13 02:16:45
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| Views: 126
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