Death
The darkness fades as the flowers hove into view;
we sit in the garden and watch the horizon die. The garden
is but an overgrown grove of blackberry bushes and
dandelion hearts. You look to me in fear and with a
quivering breath you ask me if the horizon will ever
come back. I look at the whites of your eyes, I beg
you to wake up and see the sky. The clouds are not
dying, my love – they are just hiding for now. You reach –
with hands of hope – and try and catch the rain. “The water will
come, it must come again!” This you tell me as your tears
wet my shoulder. Come now, my dear – you mustn’t
make a mess of your face. What will the voices say then?
I take you by the hand, and lead you to the car. We sit
and drink with no intention of driving. It’s safer here, and
your fear slightly subsides. The view is bad but the seats are
rather comfy. The blood runs down your legs and
our hands become a tangle. “My love”, I say, “don’t be scared –
if you could run as fast as your heart goes then the clouds
would never leave you again”. The horizon is gone now –
the sky explodes in sparks. With fear in your lungs, you
reach for the steering wheel. You turn to me and tell me
that the time has come. We must drive, you say. The firestorms
have stopped and it is time to escape. Your face falls
as I take your arms from the wheel – they fall dejectedly by your sides.
Your eyes glisten in betrayal. The metal around us begins
to melt; the garden has already burnt to ash. We have no time for despair,
and I touch your cheek. It’s time to grow your wings, my dear, the
clock is running down and the horizon is escaping us. We try to fly
but age is catching up; I can see the lines form on your cheeks. Your
fear turns to horror and you clasp my hands tighter. With a smile and
a wink I reply: “my dear, don’t be scared, death is but one of the great
jokes of life”. I watch as your fear begins to disappear and your eyes close.
The horizon is gone now – there are no clouds – naught but darkness
in all directions.
The darkness fades as flowers hove into view;
We sit in the garden and watch the birth of the horizon.
we sit in the garden and watch the horizon die. The garden
is but an overgrown grove of blackberry bushes and
dandelion hearts. You look to me in fear and with a
quivering breath you ask me if the horizon will ever
come back. I look at the whites of your eyes, I beg
you to wake up and see the sky. The clouds are not
dying, my love – they are just hiding for now. You reach –
with hands of hope – and try and catch the rain. “The water will
come, it must come again!” This you tell me as your tears
wet my shoulder. Come now, my dear – you mustn’t
make a mess of your face. What will the voices say then?
I take you by the hand, and lead you to the car. We sit
and drink with no intention of driving. It’s safer here, and
your fear slightly subsides. The view is bad but the seats are
rather comfy. The blood runs down your legs and
our hands become a tangle. “My love”, I say, “don’t be scared –
if you could run as fast as your heart goes then the clouds
would never leave you again”. The horizon is gone now –
the sky explodes in sparks. With fear in your lungs, you
reach for the steering wheel. You turn to me and tell me
that the time has come. We must drive, you say. The firestorms
have stopped and it is time to escape. Your face falls
as I take your arms from the wheel – they fall dejectedly by your sides.
Your eyes glisten in betrayal. The metal around us begins
to melt; the garden has already burnt to ash. We have no time for despair,
and I touch your cheek. It’s time to grow your wings, my dear, the
clock is running down and the horizon is escaping us. We try to fly
but age is catching up; I can see the lines form on your cheeks. Your
fear turns to horror and you clasp my hands tighter. With a smile and
a wink I reply: “my dear, don’t be scared, death is but one of the great
jokes of life”. I watch as your fear begins to disappear and your eyes close.
The horizon is gone now – there are no clouds – naught but darkness
in all directions.
The darkness fades as flowers hove into view;
We sit in the garden and watch the birth of the horizon.