| Deception of Time |
| Sitting on the corner of Hollywood Blvd., a young writer and poet trying to forget the noise of the crowds passing by, lights a cigarette with all the world in it's flame. His head in his hand, not speaking when spoken to, only there on the corner like a newspaper blown by the wind but never blown away. Thoughts run through his mind like a lost dog trying to find his way home. Although the rain is thundering down on his head, his cigarette no longer lit at his fingertips, he still awaits for the next words to fill his tortured mind to enter unto his blank pages of time. The day starts to slowly fade away into his soul. Darkness swallowing within his eyes as he stares at nothing, only at his broken dream that fell just after the wind blew. Who knows what it is like to leave all thought and consience behind you in the shadows? Who knows what it's like? And who would dare to be a part of it now? For if they did, they couldn't receive anyone, but instead deceive themselves. So, today I sit in silence. And tomorrow you shall do the same. I left him by himself, this man on the corner...and day after day I sit there now that he has gone. I now await for the next words to fill my tortured mind, to enter onto my blank pages of time. So the day slowly starts to fade away into my soul, the darkness swallowing within my eyes as I stare at nothing... only a broken dream that fell just after the wind blew. Who knows what it is like to leave all thought and consience behind you in the shadows? Who knows what it is like? Who would dare to be that part of it now? By: Shelly Belk 1992 |
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