Midsummer Night Delirium

I opened the window and inhaled the cold air that filled the space with tenebrous sighs. A strange electrical impulse was telling me through frenetic signals that there was something inside the woods that closed before my eyes that would captivate my attention with insanity. I suddenly realized what those intern lightnings meant.

For a moment I did not understand what it was all about. But a moonbeam defined for one instant with pure precision the mystical shine of a pair of eyes.

I have always felt an almost unreal fascination towards eyes. Not towards them all, though, for some glances seem so empty and magic-less that I can compare them to mere spheres that lack of grace. But it was not one of those cases now. Although I was only able to see them for an instant, it was like a sting in the chest. From that moment and forever, they would stay contradictorily saved in my memory, for even when I kept the image in its complete purity in my mind, it grew more and more blurry every time I evoked it. Even when each object, each face stayed impregnated with unconnected fragments that were ripped from that glance, I never knew with exactitude the colour of its iris. And that is the strangest part of it all, as I sometimes think that what I remember is a colour that does not even exist.

Anyway, I jumped into the cold night and the dark woods to run behind the eyes. The stars guided me through the files of pines, which made me embrace more and more the utopia of the everlasting happiness next to the soul that filled my soul –and vice versa- running after those significative kaleidoscopes that had watched me in the dark. Why didn’t those pupils come into my room, just like the wind did through my window? My feet were wet with dew and tears now, for although I was running with all my life on my legs, I sensed I was going backwards, just like I had always done in the search of something that could never arrive. Something, someone.

Hopeless, I sat on a rock and started to cry. My pain climbed my chest and skated outside, sliding on my cheeks; but most of it just blurred my sight, staying inside forever. All I did was imagine the lips that were next to the eyes I saw among the pines, but it was too much for me, and I fell among the dry leaves, in the deepest sadness. I wonder whether I was alive when I woke up.

One way or the other, I was awaken enough to open my eyes. The silence was too deafening and I wanted to cry, but I started to move forward (forward?) to my house. Although I may have cried on the way.

When I perceived the front door, I decided not to go in. I lied on the wet grass and I closed the door. The eyes. Whatever. There were too many major chords in my head to think clearly. I asked the first daytime stars to wake me up if anything with the power of making my heart beat took place. And I closed my life to the eyes. And vice versa.

 ~*Lucy Hari*~

 January 24th 2002, 3:48 a.m.