bed, flare, waves, gain, seek
We sought freedom in Space, a new frontier,
but gained nothing:
and, now, as novae flare up in the void,
we are shipwrecked,
on a bed of broken worlds,
forever drifting on the waves of Time.
Picture: Hold Up, Did We Just Crack Time Travel?, at https://lifeboat.com/blog/2016/02/hold-up-did-we-just-crack-time-travel
We will rehearse our roles, as we stand up in good order. You, of course, will pose as the priestess, she who knows how to read the flow of time, as I blend in the multitude.
Picture: Naumburger Dom, West Choir, founders, Markgräfin Uta
Vale of Tears,
Time has come –
Truth will be known,
to our Hearts’ content!
Hack this, you fools…
The thin line
between light and dawn:
the thrill of knowing,
that time
will heal
our despair.
“It looks like cotton…” she said in a calm voice, “Only, there is no-one working here.”
The landscape was quiet, the never disturbed peace of late summer.
“And there is no shadow…” She added, with a sigh. Did she mean “shade”?
He looked up, toward the darker patches of green, beyond the meadow. Small white clouds leisurely walked the sky. He then looked down at his feet. It is then he realised what she had meant: they no longer had shadows…
They must have crossed the border, in this silence, from the land of the living, to the land of memories.
Time had stopped.
They were aware of a change in sounds, of different scents in the air. Though they knew they were still in the same bond with the City, they did not know, now, when now was.
People walked past them, without seeing them, as if they themselves had become invisible, in a magic circle, as if they had survived a Shift in Time.
Picture: Sans Souci, Potsdam, Schlosse Nacht – ©2015 Honoré Dupuis
Near the river,
which was, back then,
the divide, or near enough,
the link between our lost past and
our uncertain future,
we listened to her,
teach us to go back in time,
and learn from our mistakes.
Image: Time Warp, by Craig Sunter, from Manchester, UK
I know I stopped near the river, and I waited. I waited for you, as I admired the bridge, and its reflection, slowly captivated by the ripples on the surface of the water. When did I arrive here? How long ago was it? I only know that the colours of the leaves changed at least once. And, always, the ripples, hardly disrupting the peace.
Will you come, or have you decided it was time to leave, to leave me to this world, to the flow of time? Is this perfect oval the Eye of destiny, observing me, as I observe the river?
Science may one day shatter the mystery of time, and with time, most of our delusions. When was yesterday? And why should today, tomorrow, be different from yesterday? As often, the answer to such questions is better found in poetry.
Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they’re here to stay
oh, I believe in yesterday
Suddenly I’m not half the man I used to be
There’s a shadow hanging over me
Oh, yesterday came suddenly
Why she had to go?
I don’t know, she wouldn’t say
I said something wrong
Now I long for yesterday
Yesterday love was such an easy game to play
Now I need a place to hide away
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Why she had to go?
I don’t know, she wouldn’t say
I said something wrong
Now I long for yesterday
Yesterday love was such an easy game to play
Now I need a place to hide away
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Songwriters
LENNON, JOHN / MCCARTNEY, PAUL
Published by
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
September 28, 2016
The failure of my first book did not surprise me: it was expected, and I was prepared for it. Then there was the second attempt, in a very different register, and the success of that left me speechless for weeks. I owe much to my editor and agent. I owe much to the followers of this blog who kept visiting at a time when the writer in learning was at his lowest… Of course I owe much to my readers, who have come back for more…
Above all I owe it to you: without your decision to go, to change your life, and therefore mine, it would not have happen, I would not have found enough rage in me to write that second novel, to write in a way that had such appeal to people. But now I am wondering. The book of life and happiness failed, the book of despair, betrayal, death and desolation succeeded.
What should I conclude?
