There is another sweet flower down the garden path and again I beg myself not to do it but the begging is no good and again I think of the sweet thing as love long gone, as if back to visit for a brief time and without words speak of all that could not be said, I will look on it with eyes full of wonder and admiration for it’s beauty and those same eyes will cry that such a thing should have to die. Whether I beg it to stay or not it never makes any difference, it will be gone all the same and again I will torture myself and will watch it die and bury it and grieve for it and pray that soon too I may be the brief flower on this earth so that I may be sweet and be gone so my mind and heart may stop feeling everything, the beauty of this world.
And again I found myself in the corridor. I had been walking this same corridor for many years now, walking away from something I had lost or trying to go back to find what I had lost I could no longer distinguish and could barely understand now why I still walked it. There were always pretty distractions along the way, kind people promising they knew which way to go but I was led away instead to dead end rooms where fancy dress parties were never-ending. Returning to my corridor always, on the walls sometimes would hang nice pictures and mirrors that were reflections of ‘possible worlds’ and I would stop for long periods and take rest indulging in them and imagining life without a corridor. I was so tired of walking and so one day I begun to imagine a little too deeply whereupon the corridor finally ended and turned into a room. An empty room all but for two open doors, on one door read the word ‘Stay’ and the other read ‘Disappear’ but I hadn’t been given directions for which door to enter and felt the choice was not mine to make, so no door I would enter until the directions were given to me. In the room, much like every generous waiting room appeared some blunt pencils and musty colouring books and so I kept busy and instead of colouring in some one else’s design, I made my own designs, drawings of what I had lost and as I coloured the designs in I found little traces of what was lost and wondered, is this all the corridor was meant for? somehow understanding that within this room it would be the closest I will ever come to ever finding what was lost. It’s a nice place to wait I suppose, I don’t mind the emptiness and if my directions ever come I shall be on my way but if they never do I will sit here and draw and keep busy and will continue to think it best that I never knew.
I’ve not ever seen them in town before now. It has been a joy to have their company this past week, they will soon have stripped my little ornamental pear tree and will be on their way, off to some other place. For creatures so wild and free they do not seem to mind my company either.
but still so in focus.
I always Watch the sun set, but there was an evening once not so long ago where I had got myself into such a state that I actually Felt the sun set. It Felt like the end and the end was a beautiful relief.
She moved into a glass house so she could be found much easier. She did not know that his eyes had stopped looking for her so long ago.
I stopped for a little while in the middle of somewhere.
Friends forever in the Blue mountains 2019
It really wasn’t that long ago when what I saw was the child’s rope swing…
now all I see is the noose…and isn’t it funny how the sun just keeps on shining so brightly
A new diary for the new year, blessed with Everlastings from Louise and offerings of kind words, music and pictures. 90 long years she has been waiting for her blank pages to be filled and so only the dearest words I shall write within her. As like her, I have known what it is to wait long, unknowing if the dearest shall ever help ease the emptiness with words…just a few little words, music and pictures.
Having parted with my two dearest friends that morning following a most magical time together in the misty Blue Mountains, I continued in the dream-like state I had found myself in and spent a summers day in Sydney where strangely the mist had found itself too. Looking at art in galleries and reading books in libraries, it seems I was still in a dream!
And mostly when I’m living daily life, doing daily life things, all I really feel I’m doing is whispering important nonsense into the sleeves of a straight jacket and tracing footprints around on a well-worn floor, having been ushered inside a revolving door.
I played the game for a little while and wearied of having to stay in it just to gain more and more. So I pulled out and let the others win.
But it is just a game, for fun, they teased.
Perhaps it was just my heart that could never understand the point- to win, was to make others lose. How does one think like that and call it a game they enjoy.
Oh where are they all going, and how may I go there too?
Taking the backroad this evening.
She closed her eyes and tried very hard to remember her last moment. She remembers…
in her last moment, her whole life flashed before her eyes…
not the one she had lived
…but the one she had missed.