Turbulence

Deserts, endless…dunes, ribbons undulating beyond the mirrors of eyes…far, far, where the sparkling dives into the sea.

Far, where kisses of green steal spots on the grains; where tall, dried flowers bear a living; or where of splendid midnight colors and fires they crowd pastures.

Far, where, perhaps, a peak rises solitary from a city of specks.

Far, where desolate hands, skeleton fingers, ancient smiles, rusty teeth, grope and laugh to nothingness. In nothingness. Hugging the empty, space-less voids of lands where no snake dares slither, no hawk fly fierce above.

Far, in the howls of streams and crickets.

Far, where beasts and cowards live among desperation; or where they thrive, in tangles of green, and golds, and reds, and pinks.

I stood, I screamed! I ate the colors of majestic birds, I drank from the symphonies of wolves. I vomited in disgust, and stole away in moonlights of ecstasy.

I tore apart my flesh, rebirthing from bitter-tasting ashes.

I beat my senselessness into revelation; I was dead thirty times. Again, again, each better, worse, different, the same.

I was afraid! More afraid than those on the pulpit of death; more afraid than heroes of war, and children of monster hiding in dark corners; I, was, and I admit, a coward.

A faint coward! A creature of madness! A statue of indifference, cold and warmed by the fire of lust and greed. And what have I done?

Nothing. Nothing. I have done away with the wind and love, and beauty; I have destroyed.

And now, I regret! Now, the clocks melt, mocking, in the backdrops of my tears.

But now, all is lost!