The Day does not begin without pain
It does not sneak about swiftly
It cracks
It tears
It breaks
I should know
I am the Sun
Every day I rise from the East
Every day returning from my nocturnal exile
Every day I must split the Moon's veil
So hastily thrown up
To block out the colors
Cutting through it brings me pain
But surely nowhere near the pain it brings her
We both cry out
Our screams lost in the sounds of birds chirping
Coffeemakers brewing
Cars and trucks and people rushing
The sounds of morning
Without me, they wouldn't know when to start.
If you watch, you will see
Set down your newspaper
Pull on your pants
Push aside your bacon and eggs
I'll show you how a real man starts the day.
It begins with the layers.
The top one still Black
The next, a deep Purple
After that, a sensuous Indigo
Below it, a pale jaundicised Yellow
Under this, Pink
But not a rosy clean pink
A sickly pink
A sickly pink
Do you understand?
A painful pink
Each layer grows lighter
Brighter with each passing second
Each painful second
Causing more pain than your human mind can comprehend
The sky has almost finished turning
Now I will attend to my mother, the Earth
I start with the Trees
Pulling away their cloaks
Ripping the darkness from them
Turning them from dark silhoettes
Back to their natural Crimson
Pumpkinesque
Saffronopal
Or just plain Green
Soon you can see everything
The grass
The houses
The streets
Soon you will see me
If I can bear the pain that long
But even if I can't,
I must.
Now the Clouds are Pinked
Dripping with that same awful, agonizing layer
Weighing them down
It will soon fade
They will be blank in no time
Free to sail the skies again
Where ever the wind takes them
The sky has gone from many layers to one
Blended like a paint sampler
You can see the Yellows
Greys
Whites
Lavenders
And that god-awful Pink again
Soon there will be only Blue
The most perfect Blue you ever saw
The Blue you see every day
Such a clean Blue
Pristine
And yet....
A boring Blue
Untainted
If you look at that Blue
Every day
At the Height of noon
When I am highest in the sky
Can you appreciate it?
Can you understand my pain?
Can you understand my sacrifice?
Our sacrifice?
For my lover, the Moon, suffers too
Is it possible for your puny mind
To wrap itself around the idea?
Of course not.
I'm not complaining
It's just, a little recognition would be nice
Or if you'd wake just a little earlier
And sit with me
Watch me
Stay with me a while.
They used to worship me, you know
They called me a god
Who rides a great golden chariot
Who lives in a great golden palace
They gave me names
Beautiful names
Names like Amen-Ra
Hyperion
Apollo
Powerful names
How can you argue with names like those?
Oho, but you're too wise for that now, aren't you?
You've evolved too far, right?
You're all so terribly advanced now, aren't you?
I'm only a giant ball of fire and gas
Just one star among trillions, eh?
Fools.
So smug in your humanity
But I am the Sun and I see all
You cannot hide your cruelty
Your selfishness
Your lack of regard for other humans
Humanity. Ha!
Well
We won't speak of that.
I'm not bitter
I would gladly go on like this
Will go on like this
For it is my cycle
And we must all follow our cycles
Over and over
And over again
No matter how much pain it brings us
Night and Day
Precipitation and Evaporation
Life and Death
Until the end of time
Even you, human
Oh, yes.
You too, have a cycle
You'll learn that soon enough
But in the meantime
Look to the East
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 11:47 AM UTC
The Tree stands
tall
noble
Just as he has for a hundred years
Just as he will for a hundred more.
But time passes differently for a tree
He looks upward
his boughs
his branches
They touch the sky
Brush the clouds
Forming their own cloud
His leaves are the purest verde
a halo
a crown
He is lord of the oaks
King of the trees
Pride of the forest
He looks down at the common folk
the maples
the birches
Their stature only a fraction of his own
He looks down kindly at his subjects
All is well
He sees something else
small
deformed
Stubbier than even the shortest willow
It has probably come to pay homage to him
Bow before the King of Trees
But it just stands there
hands on hips
chin raised
The very picture of defiance
He just stands there
Looking at him
The King bristles
the impudence
the impertinence
How dare this little sprout
The King thunders at this puny creature
His commands go unheard
The creature takes something from its back
is that...
wood?
It looks like a branch
Has this beast dared to form an object
From the flesh of a tree?
There is something attached to the branch
sharp
shiny
He's never seen anything like it
What blasphemy is this?
What could such a thing be for?
The creature pulls back the branch
aims
swings
It connects
Against the Tree
There is a dull chuntk
All of a sudden
pain
pain
Unimaginable pain
What just happened?
He screams
(chuntk)
The King of Trees is screaming
crying
begging
His subjects watch in silence
Stunned to see their lord behaving like this
This creature must be a demon
(chuntk)
The Demon swings again
again
again
He does not hear the King's cries
He continues with his work
Whistling a merry tune
(chuntk)
The Mighty Oak feels only pain
Inescapable
Inexorable
His branches shake in agony
Some of his jadey leaves fall to the ground
The Demon tramples them
(chuntk)
The King feels his sap rush out
burbling
gushing
Staining the earth blow
Pumping wildly from his death wound
He is sapping to death
(chuntk)
Time crawls past
weeks
years
Or maybe just minutes
Time passes differently for a tree
Especially when he's being tortured
(chuntk)
The Tree shudders
leans
falls
What's happening?
The impact is the worst part
He lands with a bouush
What just happened?
he fell
he landed
He looks down his trunk
He sees a stump
HIS stump
The King of the Forest screams
a curse
a blight
A plague upon this thrice acursed demon
May a thousand locusts eat his leaves
May his roots rot into dust for what he has done
The other trees join him
mourning
weeping
Lamenting their fallen leader
But the demon ignores them
Pretending not to hear
The lord of the oaks yells at his subjects
commanding
pleading
Telling them to shut their eyes
They should not witness this
Should not see their King in such a state
They obey
eyes shut
backs turned
They will not embarrass their king
Will not cause him any more humiliation
Will not watch him die
He knows he is dying
water
nutrients
They came through the earth
Through his dismembered roots
Without them, it's only a matter of time
Under the pain, he feels something else
thirst
hunger
Without his roots, he cannot pull in water
Cannot initiate photosynthesis
Cannot live
The Tree lies there
low
humiliated
For how long, he doesn't know
But then, Time passes differently for a tree
Especially when he's dying
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 11:28 AM UTC
Stupid
Stupid
What a fool he was
Was it really worth it?
Was She really worth it?
Was she worth fighting for?
Worth dueling for?
Pierre asked himself over
And over
And over again
He looked down
At the pistol
White-knuckle-gripped in his hand
He decided
She was
He lifted the gun
Aimed
Fired
In the same instant
His opponent did the same
Then
He fell
A hit
Victory!
Pierre had won
His grin cracked his face in half
His shout bent the air
He had won
He'd won
Oh, wouldn't she be proud!
He saw her face in his mind
Smiling
Her eyes shining
Like the stars
Only better
Sharing his victory
“It was for you,”
He told her
“It was all for you”
She nodded
“I know”
Meanwhile,
Back in the present
He felt something
A slight discomfort
In his stomach
Pierre looked down
He was bleeding
Quite a lot
He blinked
All of a sudden
Pain
The worst pain he'd ever felt
It surrounded him
It became a part of him
More blood
The entire front of his cloak
Had been crimsonified
His scream bent the air
This wasn't right
This wasn't fair
He'd won
He'd won
Blood trickled from his mouth
Bubbled from his lips
He realized something:
He'd never asked her name
Stupid
Stupid
What a fool he was
Was it really worth it?
Was She really worth it?
This girl whom he'd never met?
Was she worth fighting for?
Dueling for?
Losing for?
Bleeding for?
Was she really worth dying for?
He decided
She was
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 11:27 AM UTC
I open my eyes
The woman stands
At the foot of my bed
She looks at me
Unblinking
Watching
Waiting for something
I don't know her
Never seen her before
She's dressed formally
As if for dinner
Black gown
Crimson sash
Long white gloves
How'd you get in here?
I ask
Coughing the words
From my shriveled lungs
Nothing
Silence
She doesn't speak
I question her again
Who are you?
Again, nothing
She just stands there
A pillar
A gravestone
Still as marble
I look up
Up at her face
Her face
Oh God, her face
Slender
Pale
A classical beauty
If I were a younger man
I would say I were in love
But if I were a younger man
I wouldn't be here now.
Lying
Helpless
Choking on nothing
She steps forward
My breath quickens
The monitor in the corner
That eternal noisemaker
Beeping
Beeping
Beeps faster now
She smiles at me
I smile back
Or try to
My face feels stuck
I struggle
I strain
It won't move
I try to say something
The words are slurred
Strange noises come out
She raises a finger to her lips
Shhh
Calm
Everything is alright
The sound of her voice
It's beautiful
It quiets me
It sounds strange, though
Elegant
Foreign
But so cold
Cold?
She steps even closer
Out of the shadow
I see her eyes
Grey
Unfeeling
Pinning me down
I can't move
Can't stop staring at those eyes
The eyes of the dead
They seem to grow
Larger
Deeper
Swallowing me up
Still staring at me
Staring into me
She lifts her arm
Pulls off her gloves
Her hands
Those hands
Hands of a skeleton
Her hands are so pale
Paler than the rest of her
Almost pure white
I look now at her fingers
Long
Lithesome
They look fragile
She reaches out
Towards me
I try to pull back
The monitor beeps again
Faster
Faster
Beeping too fast
She touches me
Cradles my head
Reaches into my mouth
Pulls something out
It's warm
It's glowing
It looks alive
I think it's my soul
My vision clouds
Darkness eats my peripherals
The monitor beeps again
Slower
Slower
Beeping too slow
All of a sudden I see pictures
Scenes from my life
Played out again before my eyes
It was a good life
Full
Significant
With no regrets
I realize something
I must be dying
I realize something else
She's not a woman at all
An angel?
That's it
The Angel of Death
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 11:26 AM UTC