I have said a lot about wind, talked ample about her. Every thing I create, everything I feel, There has to be wind. There has to be something having even the remote relationship to her. To My friend who whispers through it
And I am back again, to pursue the topic. I get up early the other day, go upstairs to unlock the doors. Instead I open and step onto the roof of a house my dad grew up in. It is so cool, so much better than the sweltering suffocation downstairs. I just step out and shrug my shoulders. It feels cold, dressed up in the worn out clothes I am. Who cares
I look around, making sure nobody is up on their rooftop. I sit, so nicely shielded, on a raised step. I think about nothing. Nothing at all. All the crap I will be going through all that has been happening blah blah part of life so what. My eyes are wide, twice their ‘usual’. The oil well of a face is cool. I raise my face to the air and close my eyes. Five minutes or three. She is there
I feel like a gypsy now. Wind unhinging every pore of my body exposed. Skin of the neck and the face tingle as she brushes past. I wanna fly away with it. I want to move away, see what she sees, go where she goes. If I let these thoughts lead me all over I might one day go away after it, with it. But aye. I always say..Love doesn’t bring you to disgrace. Love doesn’t lead you astray.. . It’s not love when you do
I feel intact, I am not slipping away. Not going mad. Not going crazy. Just held to the ground. Held to the cement floor and feeling cold. Cold isn’t bad. For now. These are the times when I feel privileged. I thank God for feeling what everyone cannot. I humble meagre human I may be and I so truly am. Under the eyelids all I see is frost. White frosty colour clings to my mind at the time. She brushes me again and I bury my face in my hands, away from her. She still strikes my hands, as if gently pulling them away.
This is all in my head, there is nothing significant about frost colour, there is no wind waiting for me. There is no monster and no saviour. There is no Jacob there is no Ian. There is no Conor and no Audrey. No Sebastian and.. ha no Leah. There is.. no Eustachia.. aye
But I can hear her, feel her around. I can see the colours. I know the monster, There is Jacob. Ian has died. Conor is in pain. Audrey does watch over him. Sebastian will find Leah. Leah will board the train everyday. I can feel Eustachia. I so severely do
I smile, And face the wind again. If I let go these metaphors these images. A lot of me will cease to be. I don’t merge imagination and reality. So for now I look at the heavens and make images in the clouds. I am just a normal person. Just someone lost in a crowd. Things are only as real as we consider them to be. Savvy =P