All things melancholy · Changing Seasons · Dreams

Dreams of a Precipice

I am standing in the middle of this steam now, but no longer am I waiting for stepping stones to appear, the flood has receded and I am too far from the shore to take the step.  I am in a deep chasm, the water too far below me to fall safely into the water, even though I do not care if I might get wet.  A being hovers in the air nearby, and she offers to help, she pushes the slab so it teeters mostly off the high spire it rests upon, I take a step, a person on shore reaches for my hand and the rock tips and I am plunging.

I am standing in a terminal, waiting for a flight to South America, all I have to do is step somehow from one platform to another, the problem is between the two platforms there is a corner jutting out and it is too far to step.  There are people milling about on both platforms, clearly they have made this step.  But I cannot.  And I am asking myself, why do I even want to go there?  I don’t understand.

I want to fly across the distance, but my wings are clipped.  I am caged.  I want to get a new tattoo one of a condor at the zoo.  Clipped.  Caged.

The universe brutally smacks the back of my head.  I know he is here without having to search for it.  It just hits me hard, while I am looking for something utterly unrelated.  Thank you.  I say with my middle fingers raised both hands.  Thanks so much.  Can this be any more painful?  Really?  Stop teaching me, I need time to not be taught a blessed thing.

I wake to the cold.  Shivering.

I reluctantly go to work.  The light is right, the birds are singing the right song, but it drags so, this winter.  How it drags.  The car is covered with snow.  I brush it off.  I take one step after another.  I know how to make myself feel better, I dig in instead.  Settle into my haunches, waiting for it all to pass.


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