| corrego do cientemare no. VI no this won't be the last day this won't be the last time I watch myself dancing through the frosted windowpane in the first light of a grey december morning no this won't be the last time I see my reflection momentarily obscured by my breath on the window condensing I can see myself out there in the snow and I am happy though I am dying it's so cold in here I can feel my feet slowly freezing I haven't turned the heater on for fear of the power it represents; that we might turn our backs to Fire and Light and make our own I'm chained to what I never let myself become but in the hazy light they view me in it's what I'll always be I can't change what they're thinking but I can change the pattern of their thoughts just as the winds can't build or break the clouds and therefore don't own them nor do they owe the clouds anything they don�t try to pretend they know each other but they're so i n t e r t w i n e d they have a common life force they find it in each other the clouds carried by the lofty winds give them reason for being cos they're so existentialist you know they need it but I can change the pattern of their thoughts just as the wind can change the array of the clouds, can carry them away and move masses without so much as a sound I can change them if I have to but I can't break them no matter how much I want to its been too long since I tried r a t i o n a l i z i n g what I'm seeing and let myself just be a part of it I've been trying for far too long it seems to understand what's happening I should just let it happen this won't be the last time this crosses my mind no this won't be the last time I'm left hanging for words this won�t be the last time I'm starved for words I always know what to s a y . . . its beyond cold in here the radiator won't speak a word I tried to coax a phrase or two out of it and all I got was stonefaced silence I can't take my eyes off what's outside it's so beautiful I want to control it cos if im going to dance in the snow, in the howling winds, I'm going to let it become a part of me I can feel my lungs stinging from the cold air its not windy but it's cold as its ever been I can't see ten feet in the darkness even though it's white it surrounds me it envelops me and I'm no longer bathing in its light I've moved away from there and I'm flying in the darkness I've been lifted from my place and c a r r i e d to somewhere I'd rather be thank you for taking the time to breathe for me it's so fucking cold in this place it was my home but I could never feel at home in such a place I've been e n l i g h t e n e d and I know where I should be I know where I can call home and I know that there I won't have to think about such things as radiators and dancing and snow and frosted windowpanes that tell me what I'm thinking and then some it makes me w o n d e r what I found here in the first place it makes me w o n d e r what brought me this far there's nothing here and there never w a s I was so blind I couldn�t tell what I was following I was trying to fight the snowstorm when I should have been laughing & embracing it & dying out there in the cold instead of dying in here where I can't even find light it makes me w o n d e r what brought me this far in the first place it make me w o n d e r�. it's something that's right there it's right at the forefront but it's so subliminal that if I weren't looking for it I'd still miss it underlying every one of the landscapes that come to mind is a pleading for some semblance of reason reason for being or maybe reason for nonbeing it's all in the perspective but having lost perspective the best I can say is that I'm still trying to make sense of it I climbed onto the rooftop thought maybe if I could see farther I could see the end of the storm but it was to no avail for as far as the eye can see there's nothing to behold but the darkness brought on by overlain blankets of white death its so depressing this ceaseless spell of weather I can't wait for spring its spring but not warm enough I can't wait for summer it's summer it's far too hot and humid I can't wait for fall I can't wait for winter I hate snow but it's too hot this fall the eye can't see beyond whats in front of it the mind's eye can't see half that far it's sad to say its sad but true the times they are a changin' and so too must you cos if you don't they will not wait for you it's now or never you leave the past behind and come with me its blind faith hell yes but what have you been living on to this point blind faith in what well does it really matter it's all you've had its been a long time coming but you know why youre finally h e r e the limitations inherent in mine eye are all too apparent it's sad to say it's sad but true it's cold in this room if you can't stand it then leave but maybe what awaits you is worse I could take lines from poems of ages past and convince you to stay here in the darkness and the cold though it's not windy it spares you some of what you'd face out there the old poets are cold too they're buried so deep but not deeper than the permafrost they call to me and tell me what I should tell myself they tell me I should visit them there haven't been footsteps on the ground above their heads in fifteen centuries they're comfortable they rest easy where they lay but they're so solitary they sing songs only the dead can hear and right now the songs are in my head I'm singing them as I dance in the snow there's no music I make it up as I go along there's the highlands and lowlands and theres the cities in between they rest easy theres' a streetlight here it's the only light I have stolen from the daytime and robbing the night of its reason for being come on now don't do that you know how lonely the night can be it's more at ease in the darkness but for the intruders from above but this this is such a travesty you wouldn't dare rob the nighttime of its melancholy and paint the daytime with its sacreligious practices why leave the night defenseless against the light this streetlight is the only light I've got its so dark I can't even see to write I'm sure I've reached the end I just try not think about it this isn't the end its not the end it can't be the end no this is not the end this is not the end; this cannot be the end, too much remains left unsaid this will not be the last time I find myself here I can't let it out of my mind I can't push it so far away that the mind's eye is taken by something else I want to let it run but it's hiding from the cold in here where there is no light there is no lantern only a wicked fire burning with nary a sound and you can put yourself in its place and feel no heat it's been robbed of its essence who would do such a thing I made myself believe there was no such thing as fire & light & I turned away from the window with the song in my head making it up as I go along �this will not be the last time I watch myself from inside this frosted windowpane� dancing across the whitecaps and the waves being moved like dunes across the landscape the wind carries them but not for long they're only halfway to liberated from gravity they always find their place in the end if I could only be so fortunate I'd be out amongst them rediscovering what it is that brought me h e r e away from the comfort & the sweetness of the woodsmoke & made me feel as though I could be a part of what I�m seeing sidestepping closer to the ledge what this world has done to me is immeasurable and stepping off into whatever awaits don�t make this harder than it has to be don�t tell me I should know where I belong don�t make me think about the cold and the snow and the depth of the night you know I havent the slightest inclination where I belong you know I'm only making this up as I go a l o n g� return to the sanctuary |