A work in progress.
Resistance breaking down, the sun begins to fall beyond the darkening, upper horizon, with dark blue and black filling in from the top, a descending dark blue crown.
Black descends against the light blue, dark except for a shaft of that external rising, man and eternal meet in a trance of color, lessons taught and learned, eternal design, surprising.
The warm sun descends as if I’m command from an invisible voice, lingering shafts of yellow mingle with eternal blue, earthly brilliance, creations network of force, tapestry for the consequences of choice.
The white plume, an artificial show of some man made synthesis, rising with possible negativity but unkown all the same.
Rising high into the infinity as if seeking an answer to an overwhelming question or to rise to the darkest blue, not yet black and endless infinite game.
Then comes the stone chimney clouds into blue infinity, not mistaken for some form of divinity, until mourning comes and the dark blue dome sets new colors free…..
” Consider all this: and then turn to this green and most docile earth: consider them both: and do you not find a strange analogy to something in yourself? ” Herman Melville
Winter is the best time to visit the pier.
Facing south and east it stands fixed and has no defense against the bitter winds. It is a vantage point for the steel blue and endless ocean that stretches out under the winter welcome sky.
From the Cliff Walk the contrast between mansion views and ocean swells is most remarkable. They summer storm threw its winds against the rocks breaking its waves as if to welcome the encore of clouds building to the west.
The endless ocean tides continued to rise and fall against the stagnant glory of the mansion backdrop, opulence untouched as the rain began again.
One Easter at New Smyrna there were surfers catching waves against a sunset backdrop, waves were crashing in continuous motion, sunset and moon rising into another evening that gives birth to another day…..
The sum total of the problem is that I see right through the pictures and all of those smiles, oh! those smiles, the painted on lips!
I remember all that you told me and I remember how you said it and most of all I remember how you cried.
You say he loves you like no other and then you post the pictures to prove it, there is nothing beneath that pedestal you stand on, only the temporary high of self affirming likes and reactions, until the screen goes dark.
(then you look for the next “spontaneous” moment to exploit)
So begins the cycle of looking for attention and then watch it fade away, it is so exciting, but like all highs it disappears and dime away so you have to chase it again and again.
(get the angles right for this latest testament to self)
The simplest and oldest form of worship, looking back at yourself, forgetting the image is only a picture taken in the middle of the emotions you run from, in this world of smoke and mirrors there is neither fire nor reality, there is no now, there is only then.
Just let me be, don’t hold me close and then let me go, just let me be, never closer, never further, you just come and go as you please, I am not dead nor am I dying but you proceed to put me up for sale, you come and go and come and go and all that you once said is no longer true, runanway, steal away, take my breath away, pretending all the while that you don’t even his me.
So just take your selfie, so your hair and face, smile for the camera, pretend that you are what you are not really are, I have never forgotten those teary eyed conversations about all those rejected feelings, how he resisted your advances, maybe you made a mistake, not really meaning those vows and how it now needs to be all undone…..
Only now you smile and praise him and say how you can’t live be without him and how wonderful it all is with him but don’t forget that I know better despite all those pictures you use to tell your fabled story.
Endless poses, well rehearsed selfie portraits that paint neither reality nor your best qualities up close they are as invisible as your regard for truth…..
“depends on others for constant infusions of approval and admiration…..” C. Lasch
T.S. Deary P.A.F.M