"But finally you find that you have people of flesh and blood on your hands, people with will and an individual sensibility of their own, made out of component parts you are unable to change, manipulate or distort." (Harold Pinter)
Who will defend the fragile stem, the green line that rises from the sand, in the desert so close, and yet so far away?
Picture: Wikimedia, “Adenium obesum” also known by the names “Sabi Star, Kudu, Mock Azalea, Impala Lily & Desert-rose” – – Own work, 5 April 2010
The lock we picked,
a small step we took
in our past…
Now our numb mind
can only hear the sound
of the ancient clock
marking time.
We can no longer tour the City as it was, and yet, in the dawn hour, we can chase its ghosts. For we ourselves change, under its spell, and we too evolve into something of the past, an obscure picture in the dust of Time.
Inspired by the Secret Keeper’s prompt, and Babylon Berlin
I confess I have never been a sun worshipper. Red meat on a dry rack, sorry, beach, does not inspire me. Perhaps is it a question of name? Summer, Sommer, sommaire, echoes of summary… Execution? I long for Autumn, for the fresh smell of wet ground, for the scent of pine trees, at last drinking the dawn dew. I love the way the temperature drops at night… sweet dreams.
I long for the rain, for the gift of rain, falling on the parched earth, for the sound of rain drops on the lake. Solace.
Photo: Herbst Regen, source
Some, they say, are oblivious of danger, and survive by luck.
Not I, for, long ago, I arrived at this conclusion:
stay in your hut,
and learn the age-old truth,
once warned, never surprised.
Photo: Liepnitzersee in September, © 2018 Honoré Dupuis
Vale of Tears,
Time has come –
Truth will be known,
to our Hearts’ content!
Hack this, you fools…
What to ask of the waning Moon?
Where to watch the drifting Sands?
Passing Soul,
I will pursue You
to the ending Time…
Image: Michael Najjar, Sands of Mars, source: wired.com
I know his tricks, and I can recognise the face, his, or of one of his “staff“, as he likes to call his minions. I have seen him a few times, in the old city, never in the same guise, even as an attractive person, disappearing at will in the crowd. Always, I heed his moves, his looks, for, sometime, he betrays his goal, his intentions, and reveals who will be his next prey.
Photo: Noter-Dame de Paris, collection privée, Paris in the 30’s.
The thin line
between light and dawn:
the thrill of knowing,
that time
will heal
our despair.
