Monday, April 18, 2016

second winds

They always come on the cusp of our dreams, and their philosophies bring parallels to ponder. This one is about love.

It begins with a girl. But she and I are not in love. No, but I see how it could happen. It would begin with me giving up and learning to give in. I, for the first time, would have to be the one to force her move. Such a future is a world I do not dare glimpse. But I am human. I am curious. And I would be nothing if I were not willing to indulge the daring.

I see a beautiful garden. One I have been in before. She and I are still waking. The night was long. Long enough for an apocalypse and then a quick creation. The morning is still wet and shivering, but the fresh light evokes life into this new world. We find that we are friends. There is nobody else to find. And we find that very special. We know not why, and decide to know not. We choose to not touch the fruit on that forbidden tree. At least not yet. Let's enjoy the garden a little longer. Because once our bodies meet and flesh tastes flesh, that is when we will find the garden gone. A cemetery in its place.

I am afraid of looking back and seeing. Stretched until they are touching the horizon I see they are terribly transformed. They were all my gardens, my testaments to my soul, the plots for all the life I had sewn and nurtured until they were beating with a beauty which was bursting forth with fruit so ripe and ready. Now they burn. And they are all scorched cemeteries.

My mantra, at least for my dreams tonight: never again.

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