Two weary travelers, set out on a course
Through the damaged roads
And over the dried out sea
Through a vindictive sky
And over the ashy mountains
Two weary travelers…
One was red and the other, green
One wept in euphoria
The other laughed in dread
One had a silent bird sitting on top of their head
The other carried a stick made of lead
One told stories of wars on the moon
The other sang songs about heaven’s gloom
One wore their beating heart on their sleeve
The other displayed their dying soul on their ragged fleece
And on they went, to far off lands
Where no one was awake
And they would ring the bells and leave a trail
Where ever they rode
And on the sunlit tops of hills
There were whispering shadows
Which told of tales of happiness and only
And one fine day the crows were dancing
When one of the travelers sat down
On a cold bench to never get up
And sat there looking at the sun set
And when the sun was drowned in the dark
The weary traveler had passed
Into the gory light
Now on the train that goes nowhere
One weary traveler sits
Alone with their mind hoping like a bird
Without any feathers
The traveler has now a box which contains a dead heart
Which they wear it on their sleeve to see if it ever would beat
And time will stop moving it’s hands
But the heart will never beat
And one weary traveler sits on the wing of a plane
And flies to the sun as it sets
I sit in a dark room thinking about darkness
I have a glass of blood in my hands
And a bird flies quietly in my head
I do not know why
I will sit here. For hours to come. And minutes and seconds
Thinking about darkness
All the light that I lost
And I cannot look around me
There is a bear which plays the flute
And I do not understand why
There is darkness around me
And I am the light.
And soon I’ll burn myself out
As I burnt my candle turning it into the wildfires
The ghosts play the piano
And I can not dance
But I do not know why
I can hear laughter and people talking
But it must be all in my head
Yet I do not know why
It’s like the days are not even days any more.
Night isn’t night anymore.
I am not even who I was anymore.
The sky has turned into ash, it isn’t blue anymore
The moon is a black dot, it isn’t the moon anymore
The sea has turned into soot, it isn’t it anymore
The tree upon which I gazed outside
It is not standing there anymore…perhaps it travelled north or towards a dusty gloom
I don’t know anymore
There is so much dark now, I don’t want the light anymore
I loved someone once
I don’t love anymore
I was haunted by the hollow of my hand
What is in it. Why
I was disfigured by the death in my eyes
Who died. Why
I was shattered by the quivering of my soul
How did it happen. Why
I was looking at the curve of my lips
Which way did they go. Why
I sat with myself once
I danced with myself once
I dreamed within myself once
Who was I supposed to be. Why
Sometimes I walk among the living dead
And I die a thousand lives
And when I come back to life
I talk to them and I laugh with them
And I love them and I fall in love with them
And when I turn back to see
I see all these faces
Of people that I do not know
And I don’t know their stories
Yet they have told me everything
And I heard
But I do not know them
They are strangers
And then there is myself
The strangest of them all
For they have seen me
And never loved me
And never fallen in love
And I am a wisp they all love
I am a stranger whom I do not know about
Never is always
Sorrows are fading
Memories are overpowering
Love is begotten
Fear is forgotten
Life is death
Happiness is love
Never is always
Humans hold no sanctity over others like them. In each picture that goes undeveloped–humans hold sanctity over themselves. And to themselves they are God.
We- are people who have been brewing venom. And we-are people who have been brewed in the poison of others. The chalices that hold us. Bind us. Yet kill us. And so, we kill each other. With our poison.
Of this. There is no escape.
Humans. Atoms held together in a most unlikely and strange, magical way-want escape.
Held in captivity we try hard to find the key which is to us the elixir. No we don’t pretend. We just try. In this search we get lost in the vacuum. Ah. Good old vacuum. Always there. Always helping?
We huddle in a room. Together and apart from each. Trying to break free. We use words. They don’t help. So we linger. But till when?
We want escape.
To run free. To march in a band. To fly. To run. Be away. From each other. To go ten thousand miles beyond the green.
We never do. Instead we stay huddled. In the same room. And we use the same words. And nothing changes. The same tunes keep playing in the background. Carrying different meaning each time.
We never realize..and we never did–how weary we have become of these charades. We blame each other. Each of us are right.
Then we want to escape. And all in different directions. Never to recoil.
It will be the utter death of everything. A grand escape.
* * *
The atoms thus held are all in movement. When movement happens..strange things happen. The cells are in catastrophe. The truth. Yes it is the delusion. One by one–each atom, each cell, each particle gets uncoiled-uncoil. It starts to break away. To move apart. The skin. The muscle. The tissue. Everything. Breaks free. Everything disperses into a cloud. It all disperses into whispers. There is so much noise. So many whispers. So many secrets. So many sounds.
The Grand Escape.
* * *
“I didn’t go to the moon, I went much further—for time is the longest distance between two places. ” The Glass Menagerie