Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Here I am, sitting in my old chair, thinking about nothing. Maybe some day I’ll think about important things, but not today. This day is an old one. A day for rest only, and for trying to remember how things were. Are you following me? Can you understand how old my thoughts are tonight? They smell like flowers and burnt sugar, they feel like silk and pure mountain water. The taste in my mouth is orange from the tree and chocolate from a box. Can’t you feel it? The rain is friendly and falls like sweet tears from the sky. The rain is old, too. It fell on me, a long time ago, on a sunny day in a countryside landscape. The drops make me fell new and the smell of the earth is fresh. Can’t you feel it? My skin is cold but it doesn’t feel wrong, my fingers run over the keyboard like bird’s wings. Wings.... I have wings in my mind, always had, this is old news too. I hear the sound of the wings, like a million bats crossing the night. Old things, old thoughts, old wings. I’m happy I can feel old like that, happy that the sounds, smells and feelings are still present in my spirit. Now, stay still, the moment can run away from here if you don’t stay very, very still. I can hear the pages of the books turning like a mad windmill. A thousand words jump from their pages and make a dance for my old thoughts. Time to rest, leaving all behind me, leaving, for tomorrow, the old things of my mind.