I was out walking, day dreaming in numbers and
colour as I do,
paying close attention to the bark on the trees,
and the moss
that always makes me feel like placing my heart up against it,
to feel it breathe.
My bare feet savouring the the grass, and the stones,
adding texture the feeling of being completely alone,
in my dreamy space, far from the reality of the clutter that
anchors my soul to my carpeted box,
where the sun comes in, but it somehow gets lost, fighting the walls
that suffocate any real light. Any natural light.
In my day dream, my knees are brown from kneeling in the
dirt and my fingernails black from digging through
the beauty that is treasure offered up by the earth.
Records are kept in the sand, of who has been before,
and even better, who has not yet been.
I was at the edge of a tune by Bach, Suit 1. The introduction.
As was my mind, in it’s curiosity at how innocent the cosmos was as
it leant with the wind, and each petal was it’s own Morse Code
as it flickered and fluttered and flitted in the breeze that picked up,
-I looked up.
There, on the banks, on the other side,
she stood. Her back to the trees, and to me. But her hair spoke
the same foreign language of the Cosmos. Fasten down the hatches.
Gather your swords and your candles and your matches,
for, she wore the fleece of a lamb, but the armour of a man.
Her hands fixed on the handle of her wits,
my day dream became more a trip through a graphic novel than
a slow stroll through moss covered acacia trees that whispered soft
words to the petals of the undergrowth.
She looked at me. Blue like Topaz. Her eyes and the heaviness she carried.
Her hair continued its conversations of preparation and war,
and I watched as she summoned her own Gods to wipe the dirt off my knees.
No words were spoken, though admiration of weaponry and the demure facade that ran like rain down the drain pipes of my dream.
The sky grumbled its approval, and we stood back to back,
blood stained hand wraps and machete sheaths fixed at out sides.
Find what you love, and let it kill you, she said.
I think I just did, I replied.
And for the longest time, the cello rang in circles,
and we stood, waiting for instruction from the bellowing sky.