20 Mar 2017

Sheer curtains inhale and exhale the faux summer wind while the sun on a celestial swing. slips in and out of my eyes, as if whatever truths have precipitated from the night are too much to read all at once. Sleep lies curled up in a corner, in a tangled heap of time, a slice of yesterday still hungover from waking, a bit of today still unwilling to stir. How does one describe that time of rising, Marcus, when emotions are so hard-lined, everything seems so definitive, so certain, until the mind surrenders to the opaque fog of yet another day?

When you open the window and let the world in, it doesn’t flutter its wings and sip tea from delicate bone china cups set on lace doilies. It barges in, trailing green slime from an almost forgotten bog, in its hands pieces of tomorrow like a broken Rubik’s cube, in its breath a promise so stale, you wonder at its audacity to persist. The instant it draws you into its churning whale belly, that clarity is clouded by the acrid bile.

I wonder where we can find our best selves then – alone, interpreting the world in the blazing clarity of solitude or in the eternal undulation, caught in the tide of accomplishment and compromise, between the grey and purple, gaining and giving up every single moment.

Can you solve that puzzle before your tea gets cold?

you see the way it works
the caterpillar never meets
the butterfly

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23 thoughts on “20 Mar 2017

  1. Excellent prose and a good question to ponder and one which I think is answered in the passage leading up to it. I think the caterpillar is the butterfly ๐Ÿ˜‰

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  2. I love the language, especially: ‘the sun on a celestial swing’; ‘Sleep lies curled up in a corner, in a tangled heap of time, a slice of yesterday’; and ‘in its hands pieces of tomorrow like a broken Rubikโ€™s cube’,
    And that’s a humdinger of a haiku!

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  3. Yeah… they never do meet. I’m in this haze of waking as I read your words… sleep still balled up in the corner over there. Wish to go back to bed! But… more coffee I guess

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  4. Beautiful writing and imagery. I had to put my coffee down to read again. I think the answer is they are one in the same yet they can never meet just as we can never meet who we were yesterday or before our first cup of coffee this morning. Now I need to heat up my coffee. Great read!!!

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  5. Another brilliant write which totally engages me. Someone once told me poetry and philosophy are antithetical โ€“ they had never come across you! The verse in particular is a small masterpiece combining the two.

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