THE WEIGHT, I'M GONE – IN MY SKIN, I'M LOST
THIS SHIP WAS ONLY EVER BUILT TO FALL APART.
•
The gradient of pastel clouds washed through the light that caught her eyes, shining reflections in the water and she watched them pass. Then, very, very steadily the mist began to move away. Slowly the grey smudge of the shore became visible and she realized something she already knew; that the boat had lazily sailed in a parallel line to the clouded shore all this time.
Tangled in her ivory mane she lifted her head, crystals dripping from her lashes. A black stain tainted her vision and she knew and remembered somewhere absent-mindedly that it was a jet black basilisk. He was dark, grim and ugly and he left a trail of inky substance as he slithered.
But of course it made sense.
He grew more vivid – shadowed – in her sight while he told her she was late. On his head quivered a tea-pot, apparently filled... and cold. She looked again at the pastel world around her and the vague blur of grey shrubbery that grew on the frame of this liquid mirror of clouds.
But the only shadow in this world seemed to be him.
"The water was lazy and I fell asleep," her own lightly troubled tunes answered his indignant tongue; still clicking like a clockwork.
The boat gracefully hit the greys of the shores and came to a halt (although she had yet to experience the feeling of the boat actually moving, even when it had). "Noon," she repeated. "– Has such a strange and liquid place in time," her lips formed under silent crystal-framed eyes. But then she remembered: "My apologies, perhaps it is to soon for discussion. We haven't even had our tea yet," the halo'd mare simply smiled. Her voice was like that of the bells while his were in tune with the mysterious rattling and turning of the machinery inside. "At least you haven't grown old from waiting," although she truthfully couldn't say.
"Please..." She gestured with her slender feathery hands for him to slide into the vessel.
As she let the ugly shadow enter her pastel sanctuary, she smilingly sat down at the other end so that they could both face the middle. In the middle there was a spotless white tablecloth covering a little table. Ready for the tea-set to be set out on (for the snake had only so many limbs). With handy quickness she dipped her head down under the table for a moment, and came back up with a box in between her wings. She spread its content over a little silver tray. "As promised, I brought the cookies." All of them boringly round with a glowing white glaze.
From under her white lashes she looked up at the serpent again, crystals lingering on the ends, hanging on, waiting to fall down like droplets rolling from a leaf.
And while her lips lay patiently curled and her mane fell back into the water, she wondered if there would be a meaning behind everything in this dream; a meaning for everything, or if this would all be left with one simple description; the rough sketch of a concept.
A horse, a snake, a tea-set and a boat.
She seemed to have arrived at nowhere.
Or...
Nowhere seemed to have arrived.
@[Reginald]
I love his attitude
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
[O] We circle atoms with dust in our [dream]
