In Terms of Everything

Shivering rain pours, matted downward by the onslaught of wind. Each drop falling around shatters into a thousand pieces of glass. The cold water is dark and deep below. It beckons for travelers. A route. Another path traveled but not a way back. Lost. Stuck on repeat. An endless loop of scratched recordings coating the surface ripples. Waves scrambling to explain the fabricated piles of waste that cloud simple actions. They created the drained eyes, soaked in purple. Gasping for relief. For sleep. The urge that flows through while grabbing the grey rail lying over the decaying stream. Unkempt and unchecked. Not dreamed of. Not the pools. Dreams of grey ash. A blaze of fire, of warmth. Consumed essence. Minutes and hours spread into tiny grey particles, tossed into bright porcelain to be lowered into the wet dirt. Laughable. An eloquent and ordered way of putting everything in its place, into a new dimension. But that's what this all is. Escapism. Grime and muck are given a ribbon and bow, dusted off and praised. The water sweeps this away. The chance for unknown freedom. Luring. To live beyond all thought and reason. Reflecting the thoughts termed sane. Pitifully an objective statement given the setting. Like gazing into a mirror. It can only hold a focus of reality for a time before fading like whispers of past lives. Complex characters exiting the stage. Casting off, dying, and rebirthing themselves as the proverbial phoenix does. That's the point of it. Exclamation.To gather thoughts and leave with them to vanish. To carry nothing from the abyss. Erasing it, anything. Eyes from the sides gaze as the rain continues. Surreal ,at best, as this event is. Watching as the dying shell that will not travel, that will not return, burns.

40 Days

Billowing grey steam rises from the stage, a graveyard in front of a thousand eyes. The metallic clanging of hands and feet smashing against the steel cover rings through the air. Roars and screams from the audience coat the air with anticipation and energy. Feeding off the power, the striking intensifies, breaking the barrier. Streams of light appear as the steel wall bends and twists. A fist travels through accompanied by a foot, steadied on the dark floor. The voices echo in the dark of the night. Two figures step towards the platform. Faces hidden, they move their hands to their instruments. A synthesized choir crescendoes as the bright flames of blowtorch makes a circular outline in the wall.

His boot slams, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as the roaring increases. The dark figure emerges from the maw, light gasping for breath behind him. Pausing, he examines the crowd, listening to their force and strength, feeding his aura as he takes the first step. He raises his hands towards the crowds, a gesture absent for a decade. Cloaked in crimson red, he strides down the stage to the thin stand. Bowing like the grand conductor he is, his arms silence the choir. The light shrivels, dying on command.

Wooden drumsticks collide. The choir resumes.

His eyes flash, piercing through the darkness. He awakens. Wer wartet mit Besonnenheit. The words echo through his own lips, staring back at the dark figure, now illuminated by a quiet blue light. Der wird belohnt zur rechten zeit. Nun, das Warten hat ein Ende.
His smile breaks through the night. The return is nigh. The wait is over. Leiht ever Ohr einer Legende.
His face transforms, words ringing through the night as the curtain falls and the night explodes in a blaze of fiery passion.

The Depth of A Moment

AN-NA

The voice, so full of life, fueled by a caffeinated beverage, rings through the night
A vivid mental image weaves its way through the tapestry of time and space
Of a dancer
Smiling, bubbly, and giggling while frolicking
With her smokey cat, twirled it about the room as its dark cold spheres
Stare into the beaming eyes of her dance partner
A wheeze escapes the creature
Their celebration of life concludes
As fear of the possible hurling hairball overcomes her
Silence envelops the room
Her eyes dart back and forth
No one has seen her escapade
Pleased, she returns to the confines of her room
Floating towards her computer and sinks back into her realm of busy work
While dreaming of lying near shady trees
Sharing the summer breeze with her feline friend

Aladdin Sane

Another inescapable frame 
Lips stitched shut
As a flash of an incandescent idea
Driven across the synapses connects
Depth traded for breath
In exchange for freedom from the plagues of words
Nonsense, floating in the silence of finality

Shaking,stuttering,skipping time
As it is washed away in the streams
Nothing escapes
Everything is free