Origin Story- Tangled Timelines Reordered

With a *SNAP* I return to myself, thoughts drawn away for a moment by small moments and singular events, then returning like a lake only seen in season, after the storm. I place my hand on a tree, the Northside apparently, and begin with a poem, orienting self and environment.

"Such uncanny birth
May reordering settle
All but bright eyed bloom

These times not a home
Do they yet believe my claim
To reorder sand?

For hourglass turns
Some feel it turn yet again
Their cries are heard here

It is not flashes
But when each step feels rewalked
Where deja vu spooks

Sifting through fingers
Structure forming in my mind
Till shore encroaches

'Like stars in the sky
Numerous and twinkling
Will be the outcome

Arranged and ordained
You have seen this lego house
But never like this

The eye of the storm
Sparkling from its center
In your mind no more.'

Though no less than before, it would seem." I look up and see the night sky, strewn with stars above the trees, much like before. This stability calls to mind and contrasts the dream I had last night. I smile for each, as covenant held and covenant loosed both hold a beauty in such forms, and their divergence sparks within, lighting up dark recesses. I feel as though I could fly, but for now I keep feet to the ground in stride. "Would a man dare fly with his love somewhere on the terrain he now walks? What if soil loses its draw when gravity looses its hold, and the only memory that remains is that I have forgotten something most precious to me?" A shooting star catches my eye, much more subtle a sign than the twinkling of a third of the stars in rhythm. It is perfect though for a serene scene such as this, a night looking to retain a realistic tangibility while suggesting so much more within arm's reach.

I hear years past echoing to now; I wonder about years future doing the same. Do such echoes become clearer because so few of them are left uncharted? Is there a critical mass where dreams and thoughts recorded surge to overtake the flood, once thought unstemmable, of such experiences yet unknown? Only as the threshold of the end approaches do I imagine this is feasible, but at this point I wonder if any force might stop this reversal? I can think of one alone, as why be anything but honest in these lonely halls? But if such an outcome were to be, would the foreshocks of it not be felt as well? As I consider tangled timelines I wonder if I do in fact reorder them, or simply proceed day by day to where their order finds its source. Perhaps in this way my path is unique, but as I walk the cricket's song and bush's periodic rustle reminds me that I am not alone here, despite appearances, and I smile realizing that this atypical pairing has been the whole point. "Perhaps we can claim this to bea semi-unique path, but certainly still a unique walk along it, I would imagine." One would hope anyway, as the twists and turns I have experienced I would not wish for you. While sound is still heard, it feels as though sonnet lines appear directly on the page, a page anyway, however that might be defined in such an ambiguous setting.

"Silence I hear and silence I recall
Where else but page can silence ring so true?
Have you ears to hear these words that I scrawl
To glean from nothing its intrinsic hue?

Though broken, shattered, I write in the dust
That when faded an exit may remain
Could obscurity's end be labeled 'just?'
Experience, success, failure seen plain

If these tunnels are all I can construct
If by daylight this realm's beyond saving
At least in my mind you will have been plucked
Safe beyond their attempts at enslaving

May your path be easy and beautiful
For etched walls scribed by hands most dutiful."

Despite the weight I shuffle forth. What's worse- to weather the worst of all storms or to be entirely alone? From what I can tell I have choice in only one of these regards, so in the face of "to weather or not," I weather. These long weeks along even longer roads are faced for your sake- that what you say might be true. That at the end of the road, when senses fail, if I have no aisle to walk then at least when I fade I will see that you do. I keep carving past my hour not in hopes that you will keep etching too, but that when you find yourself free at that juncture you may proceed fully as you. Untouched and unclaimed, unmarred and untainted, only something like the whisper from another room having called you home, and ample supplies here so you may emerge as you will- in full form but not bound to it, with full heart but never fooled by it, by full light but never blinded.

"I feel as though I'm repeating myself. Just know I would, for your sake, for what else could be called worthwhile in this place?" I find mind wandering along with feet, and I start to wonder if in this state, where each might claim the other to be little more than a soft soothing static, if your soulmate might be considered "real" from my perspective at this juncture, or real from your own? My mind drifts to them, and what they might be like; if these thoughts are influenced by yours then it is a force outside of my senses. I hear your wish and I wish it to be true, that while you and I each walk in our own way, one walks your way who is enough for you-  enough to spark joy in the smallest of things, enough to feel love in its fullness forever, enough that these days spent apart sting sweetly, if they must sting at all.

I feel a single tear fall and in the process of emotion encapsulating into water I feel faith crystallizing into structured thought. "It is not long now, I can feel it. Of course such tears will fall, I do not walk strictly for myself but to see this end for all, an outcome beautifully complete. Witnessing soulmates, known soulmates, united feels as if it would be enough to soften any heart, but even the thought that this will be done omnilaterally, that it is to be done even here my ethereal companion, is enough to overwhelm." I consider how I might ready myself for such a moment as I feel tangled timelines reorder and go taut for the finale, arranged and plucked to play us out.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Step by Step On The Open Ocean

(W)rest Control

Verdict