We flew through a million different shades of light and then dark...
from pale emptiness skies,
beneath which we darted and wove...
past hundreds of beaches,
washed across with strange winds...
tearing the sand across our cheeks,
scratching their tiny claws upon our skin...
I saw a sea filled with wasps,
the other day as I was riding by...
I went ankle-deep into the water,
and saw the thousands floating beneath...
I heard someone whisper,
a velvet voice behind my ear...
'Do not fear,
they are not dead...
just sleeping within their tombs.'
He walked with me again the other night...
his claws digging into my shoulders and wrist,
always guiding me forward...
yet holding me tight.
My dark creation and stage master...
Mr. White n S has come to guide us through the night,
to horror or wealth I do not yet know...
yet travel on,
and listen to he...
'Step forward,
dear Sir and MadMadam...
mount your steeds,
bury your hope of sanity deep...
and step forward into the lightlesness,
for truly...
it is only to reach the true sunlight,
that we allow ourselves to be torn down by the darkness...
for this is only temporary.
Now enough of that...
choose your ride and into the darkness we quickly step,
our heads held high.'
A tunnel widens around us...
its' features shifting in from the gloom,
an array of destroyed temples...
forgotten and buried in time,
a labyrinth built from lost things...
and its' roof constructed from unwritten books,
and sunken sails...
The palest of lights,
Mr. White n S holds within his hands...
he leads the way forward,
and his pale figure we follow...
down deep,
The tunnel winds deeper...
its world mesmerising,
we are told about the thousand pockets...
that exist within a single pocket,
and the way to grin like the dead...
and haven't we learnt that so well?
For we are the dead walking...
but along through the tunnel strange we go,
walking dead and neither afraid nor sad...
but somewhere between,
and with a haunting music that echoes closer with each step...
a turn in the tunnel,
and Mr. White n S stops...
the music grows louder,
and around the corner you see...
not an orchestra,
not a radio...
but the most curious of dancing fellows,
with a gawky kind of charm he ganders about...
and from his pointy shoes to his angled hat,
he breathes a blue fog into the air of the tunnel...
his slight feet twisting in unseen ways,
and the music sparking from his heels...
he,
you realise...
is the music,
isthebeat...
he doesn't speak,
but boyyy is he a talkative one with his eyes...
he smiles at each of us,
grins wickedly at Mr. White n S...
who does likewise,
and then twists away back down the way...
soon the music fades,
and we travel on...
into an increasing cold,
Our feet are bitten...
by the ice that scrawls patterns upon the wooden floor,
we realize that our shoes have been stolen...
and have only our souls between our heart and the cold,
we continue to walk...
Mr. White n S never stopping,
the wooden floor gives way to limbs....
that rise and climb from beneath the ground,
charcoal branches and white leaves...
a forest of giant trees,
draped with snow...
we clutch ourselves tight,
for who would hug us instead...?
We begin to forget the existence of the sun,
and down a trail we stumble...
our names tumbling from our fingers,
we turn haggard with the forgetting...
and the sleeplessness,
and the inner screams...
yet we keep on,
and eventually...
we hear our guide call out through the dead world,
'Deeper...to deeper ground we go...'
We descend into the earth,
down a needle-thin path...
it spirals and weaves,
and it creeps into our minds...
binding us deeper still,
until we cannot...
differentiate.
We slowly turn into creatures other...
than what we were,
and we walk on...
despite the fact that we don't remember why,
not anymore...
we pass strange corners,
cloaked in darkness and exotic smells...
with peculiar music played from rusting gramophones,
and soft furred creatures lurking between the corners...
we travel further in and out,
and then...
we discover that our forest,
has transformed into a timber house...
around us,
and we see...
the cold and mist,
seeping through and beneath the walls...
and doors,
and the white reaching and spreading through the heart of our timber,
until we are as ghosts...
but,
we hear Mr. White n S...
wail out in a voice like water,
'Do not let them in...
do not let them in,
no matter how they knock and wail...
no matter the promises they make to you,
do not let them in...
don't open wide the doors,
don't let the midnight breeze in...
for it is through it that our hearts and minds are changed.'
You see silhouettes pressing their slender fingers...
up against the windows,
and the stranger words they whisper into your thoughts...
you are lead pass their creaking voices,
and desires...
until eventually they too fade from your memories,
and then....
you feel a shift in the temperature,
a change in your blood...
a myth unravelling,
within...
the shadows grow warmer,
and the light grows more solid...
the ice beneath your souls and skin starts to melt,
and shift into summer-warmed sand...
grains sinking into your pours,
and your mood...
Mr. White n S leads us ever on,
out from the icy jaws...
away from the labyrinth of steel and cold,
and up a gentle incline...
and onto a salty shore,
we feel the cold and our terrors too...
be swept away with the breeze,
and a settling within us...
like a great dragon turning over,
of a peace and exquisite ease...
and then you see ahead,
a burnished sandy beach...
a turquoise crashing of waves against flour sand,
and the shine of pale city walls...
just around this stretch of beach,
and there beyond the breakline...
beneath a curious canopy of blue-green palms,
rests a table for all of us...
shining empty and bare,
Mr. White n S commands of us to sit...
and a small buzzing fills the air,
as the sun rises from somewhere deep below the darkness...
and free thoughts are exchanged between all,
and slowly the buzzing grows louder...
until it forms into the shape of the sound,
a million and one...
white hummingbirds,
with feathers of red and aquamarine...
they come bearing gifts,
the most tempting of delights...
Red Velvet chocolate cupcakes,
and violet and pear macarons...
whatever your heart fancies,
they shall bring upon fluttering wings to thy plate...
a thousand songs are played and weaved,
and curious adventures unfold here...
the night progresses,
and the Christmas lanterns are lit...
we unfold within the sound,
Each of us is imparted...
a gift upon our souls,
a piece of our heart back to us...
to take back to our homes,
and as Mr. White n S raises a glass to our journey...
and you drink deep and eat well,
you see a light...
brilliant and vast rise up about you,
it whisks you from the chatter and the table by the ocean...
you feel the seaside rest hidden within your heart,
as you open your eyes to the soft light of your bedroom...
you hold your gift close and rise to face the world,
safe with the first present of Christmas...
and the certainty there will be more.
The wind has been blowing differently...of late [and I am sorry for the late-to-arrive Blog]. You eventually feel a shift in the person you are...when enough things happen. I wish I could just stop one day, untie the bandages from my feet and just walk away from everything. No more.
Soon...we will wait.
May your Christmas time be something better than before, and for awhile...please enjoy the light; what little there may be. For it is not long before the darkness approaches, but for now...drink and be merry.
Have a wonderful December dear ones,
Miss CLScarlett xx
No comments:
Post a Comment