On Balance Weighted- Sign on The Beach

Is it possible to recognize one's own signal as partial, a reflection of the whole, while still receiving it in full? As I walk, I get this sense that my surroundings are like a signal scattering, as if refracted off a mirrorball. I let my vision relax, knowing that fire, that sunset, that journal, are still my destination despite the lack of clarity of the path to them. I feel this intentional defocusing adjust of its own accord and, in a way that feels familiar from dreams, I continue to walk these fractal paths, each as they are, as they lead together.

"Who am I to you?

This wanderer approaching

This green eyed stranger?

Halls dark and mirrored

Have we met somewhere before?

By sight, hard to say

By eyes, hard to miss

As such, some nonsense erupts/blossoms

Path of blazing rose

Fragrance just as sweet

In memory like a song

Whose notes will not fade

Speak of fractal lines

Encrypted into gesture

A breath of fresh air

So our paths collide

A visit long overdue

Hour everlong sought

Hour evermore felt

Moment known as worth the wait

This threshold of days

This threshold of steps

Thrice, twice, until one by one

Fox feet straight on through."

I feel my spirits brighten and lift, even in the short distance paced between my brother and I, as skies darken and night falls. I sense a not unwelcome chill, as if seeping in from thoughts, themselves forming into images in only vaguely familiar ways, of walking through Christmas Town at first snowfall. I feel the crunch of cool wet sand between my toes as I approach the shoreline from the cabin. It seems the rain has only just stopped, but clouds still hang above ominously. I extend my hand expectantly, as if inviting more, and then shiver. Have I been mind blind for so long for this reason alone, only now catching glimpses in these most recent days, like a cask left to ferment over decades, ready now to burst if not unsealed? As if a ha'p'orth bet paid in full, a snowflake lands in my open palm, and I remember my brother and all his work stringing up the cable, even as I had done the Christmas lights. Does the scene shimmer, the frequency flicker? All I can say for certain is that snow falls now on this beach, and I remember my soulmate and a walk not far dissimilar from something like this. Something like a dream? Who is to say? I feel a tension in the ether, just as suddenly as I sense the ether itself, and nearly as quickly this tension relaxes as do I. For such a subtle and ephemeral sensation it leaves quite the mark; I stop in my tracks. I look up, soaking in this storm's foreign precipitation, and hear soft slow footsteps approaching cautiously behind me, as if from elsewhere. Do I know you by footfall alone? I turn to clear uncertainty.

My soulmate's smiling face greets me, and everything starts falling into place. Your expression is like a map, my sense for its careful cartography gained over the course of 10,000+ hours spent. While pitfalls and flames are not hidden, something like a new path is visible to me in the twinkle of your eye, reflecting snow, surf, and sand. It feels as though words hang palpably in the air and I remember the carnival, a moment clung to long before I knew why, but one you were gracious enough to plant a flag in regardless. "This storm's a bit different." I express with record breaking coolness, given the circumstances. "I know right? It makes me want to curl up with you by the fire." With your words my coolness *pachoom*s outta there. I feel the convergent signals once more though, seeing the precipice of eternity still in my mind's eye, signaled by the fire and the mundane walk I've taken more times than I care to count along the path to my apartment, each overlapping on this delicately balanced scale that is both small town and beach. I consider the novelty of it all and manage to muster "How many times will we have a chance like this though? Walk with me?" The fire smolders and the twinkle shifts, eyes blooming despite the announcement of this short delay. "Yes." I take off a coat and drape it over your shoulders. Then I take your hand and we walk to the shoreline, even as the crunch beneath our feet shifts from one form to the next.

We walk hand in hand in a warm silence, even as cold air makes fog of hot breath, for about half an hour.

All at once a ray of sunlight breaks through the clouds, as if throwing a spotlight on a section of snow some distance from us. We turn to each other, each inquisitive. Questions such as these being each their own answers in such situations, we both shrug like sassafrases and, with tiny smiles, walk hand in hand toward the spot. "You know, I thought that was sunset." You nod, "Frequency shifts are jarring, usually much more jarring than that." "Shoulda bet me on it, I got an extra half cent burning a hole in my pocket." "Who's to say I didn't?" I turn toward you with an :o and you burst into jazz hands whilst declaring "Time Shenanigans!" I laugh and am just about to say "How dare you!" when all at once I am nearly blinded by dazzling white light as the sun breaks through the clouds in full. Finally able to open my eyes, my first sight is yours blooming into mine. It seems like you are just about to pounce when (inexplicably) my eyes drift past you, and my expression returns to/becomes an :O.

You look a bit frustrated at this additional delay, but follow my reflexively broadcasted referential gaze and then join me in my mouth agape shock. Words escape me, both of us at once it would seem but, without turning away, we interlink arms and you rest your head on my shoulder. In perfect time, we both whisper in awe "Snowbow." My sense of wonder builds, and does not stop building. "How does one contain such a thing for even a minute?" I say, still barely above a whisper, as if this scene were so delicate that even a plainly spoken word could unbalance it. Just as I feel myself start to erupt, I hear and feel you sigh. I remember the rainbow. "Genesis 9:13, I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth." I remember The Starry Night. "Between me and the earth." I feel your smile on my shoulder, still calming and wondrous. Then I can sense something like a *SNAP* the moment that you realize this arrow has actually landed. You lift your head and your eyes are as big as mine. Discarding concern for the stage and the page you press your lips to mine as the clouds clear as a flurry of snowbows sprout up all around us. In any other moment I would point out the nonsense of such sights appearing at so many different angles, but your kiss anchors me. Then all at once my mind changes signals again, two steps, or perhaps half, and you stay right here with me. The scene changes but not the view, as we are now illuminated by much the same dazzling display, signaled from every corner of The Starry Night sky. 

"Simple words to mark cobblestone lined path

Ample to be sure, for journey is/was long

Brother turned wilderness into a bath

Brother turned water into volumes strong

That one may still wander, and yet be found

That one may miss home, and find fox feet there

That one may still seek, and answers astound

That one may miss hope, and not find hope rare

These tales are nothing new, as old as time

Yet I cannot help feel tent has vaulted

Step by step, by blood or spirit or rhyme

Catalyzed components found unfalted

Yet all the same, all at once, all the more

My ear strains for spark, a knock on my door."

I walk with my head down, hands in pockets, watching fox feet fall along path and then grass leading to the stairs to my apartment. I know these steps by heart at this point, I realize, as I step over the threshold and plant each foot once in the gravel before reaching the pavement. I cross the first yellow line, step by step I climb. On the landing I turn, spotting the second yellow, and instinctively look up. "Whaa!" I stumble backwards into the railing which shudders but holds. My brother sits, hands clasped, just a couple/few steps up the second flight "I've been expecting you." I give him a smirk, my own words from years prior still familiar in their echo. His smirk seems much the same, a debt repaid, it would seem. "We have much to discuss." He stands. "May I come in?" 

"Yes. Please do."