The Hempstock mice know all
all that is good
and all that is bad
and all that is too horrible to be known
they are the oldest of the old
they come from a place before
the place of nothing
and the time before
the beginning of the first time before
and if you believe the rumors
or if you don’t believe the rumors
they will be here long after
the last time of all

They have traveled the abyss
and set sail in and charted the void
they can gnaw through time and space
and reality is nothing
they cannot bend
or turn
or rearrange
or extinguish with just a thought

Let us be thankful
that they are animals of kindness
creatures of wisdom
spirits of love
and mice that believe in forgiveness

Their paws are hands that craft things
all things
from the first heart of the first star
to the black feathers
of the first raven and crow
they will craft the quill and the ink
that will write last word
of the last story to ever be told

They named the gods
that named your parents
that named you
and painted the names
of tomorrows children
in the heart of yesterdays dreams

They have seen the end
since before the beginning
and when nothing comes back
they will swallow

Time

and

Dream

and

Life

and keep them safe in their belly
and gnaw through to new beginnings
and their paws will be busy hands
crafting things
all things
and when they have made
the universe comfortable once more
they will let us fall
from the belly of their womb
and we will be the children of tomorrow
born from the heart of yesterday

Oldest of the old
wisest of the wise
kindest of the kind

Mice of all mice
mothers and fathers
of love and forgiveness

The Hempstock Mice

They lay in bed breathing easy breaths of exhaustion with their fingers locking their palms in a gently kiss, his eyes starting deeply into the universe of colors in hers and softly he spoke, “I feel that I have loved you longer than I have known life, longer than I have been... I can’t remember a day or time that my heart did not know or sing your name, I can’t recall a memory that you are not a part of... as if I have loved you from within my mothers womb all the way to this very moment...it’s as if we never meet... as if somehow we just always were.  Tell me, is it true... have you always been here, here in my heart... from it’s very first beat?”, he asked as he moved their hands over the middle of his chest where his heart sang below.  “Or are you just a dream... or am I?  Is any of this real?”
“I am not just a dream... I am Dream, I am all dreams... I am the dream of all the stars wishing to be made of flesh and I am the dream of every child wishing they could fly.  I am the dream of every god wishing they were never given names.  I am the dream of the salt and the blood swimming in the sea and I am the dream of every grain of sand and every leaf floating on the wind... and it is all real, as real as you and I, every dream every whispered, every dream sown into every wish... and you... you are more than just a dream... you are my first love and my last love, always, you are the time in every moment of every breath of everything I do... I can not exist or live without you and you do not live without my dream of loving you... and Life is our child, all life, and we give life dreams and love and time and let it run wild and free.  We are tied to each other in mystery and magic and knowing of things that can’t be known or spoken... We exist for an eternity together and then in a moment we are gone and we sleep and we rest and all goes quite and not a thing is dreamt and time does not move or exist while we sleep...”
“And what of our love while we sleep?”
“It watches over us and keeps us safe.”
“Always?”
“Always.”
“Do we come back... do we wake up again... will we remember?”
“Yes and no and yes... you will be Time and I will be Dream again... in the time ahead, and we will live and love and dream and give life to dreams and dreams to life and time and love to both... it will all be different and it will all feel the same and this will and will not be true but it will never be a lie... a new story for a new Dream and a new Time, as there is always a time before now and a time ahead of now... but for now we will rest and sleep and love will keep us safe.”
He went to speak again and she gently pushed a finger to his lips and without making a sound Dream said, “shhhhhh... sleep, sleep Time, sleep...”
And Dream and Time slept and the time of now was gone and love sighed and sat and watched and yawned knowing what could not be known or spoken and smiled to know that the circle would come round again and Life would be born from Dream and Time and love would be there waiting to be given and shared and lost and found and broken and healed and it would laugh when it could and it would cry when it needed and no matter what, it would always be there as a part of Life and Time and Dream.

He dreamt of mice
and he dreamt of gods
and he dreamt of mice
that were gods
and gods that feared mice
and he dreamt of secrets
that he could not tell
and of memories
that were not his
and he dreamt of days
that wished they could see nights
and nights that ignored mornings
and he dreamt
that the planets were fish
and that the ocean
was let loose to swim in the sky
and through the emptiness of space
and that man was never made
of flesh or bone
and that men where children of mice
mice that knew too many secrets
and they would not share
any of those secrets with man
but they would share
their milk and their cookies
and tell men how to avoid cats
when cats dream
because when cats dream
they become bigger than mice
and become more loved than gods
and in their purring
is the death song
of the kingdom of mice
and without mice
and their kingdom safe
that man would be lost children
that looked like worms
to the planets that swam like fish
in the ocean that floated
in the emptiness of space
and then he woke
and did not remember
what he had dreamt
and scurried across the floor
and ate some cookies
and scanned the darkness
for any cats that might
dare to sleep
and in sleeping dream
and dream the beginning
of the end of everything

Her smile felt like home away from home
that felt more like home than home itself
Her name had the warmth and comfort
of holding hands while cradled
in the shape of spoons
She was the escape plan
that was nothing more
than sitting still
and breathing in the moment
and enjoying life
Whether the day was good or bad
The night quite or filled with storms
She was the perfect sound
of hearts beating
when singing of true love

He woke before the sun crept through the drapes and the curtains and the moon were still light blue against the black sky and his bed and blankets were warm but below the surface temperature of his skin was a cold that held winter hostage in his bones and his eyes were open but his heart refused to budge beyond the bare minimum of beating to keep itself alive and he tried to move his legs but they were in favor of his hearts control and the hours passed and he found himself twisting and stumbling through the boredom of his hands and spent too much time being self indulgent in self gratification and the sun had been spilling across his bed and his sheets hours before he found himself in a brief moment of unsatisfying ecstasy that did little more than leave a small stain of self loathing on his skin and his sheets...

It was past noon by the time he found himself doing as little as possible while sitting on his living room couch eating his breakfast/lunch staring at the blank screen of his television he was too tired and too lazy to bother to turn on.   Trapped inside his fingers and his sketch pads and note pads where dreams and ideas of great ambition and the weekend was fading into another three days of regret, things he meant to work on, things he meant to research, people he meant to call and meet with, would be put off for another week or two or months or years or till death did him part from living.

He sat mostly motionless, stuck between napping and a desperate want to do something... anything... and one o’clock became three o’clock became thirty-eight minutes past four....

and eventually he cracked open his typewriter and his heart went quite long enough to hear its own beating and then it helped him move his fingers and let his mind wander and dream and tell stories of mice and gods and moons and loneliness...

and it wasn’t much, but for at least a few hours between now and his death he could feel his heart began to warm his bones and release the winter that had been held hostage within them... the day was not won or lost and there would be more days of struggle and more days of failure and occasional days of success of effort and that was his price of being, his payment for living through the bad to get a little good, change was not an easy battle when battling things unknown but he would try more and more and in the end did not hope to win but he did hope to live beyond just the motion of doing so, to live with the effort of purpose of doing something more than nothing at all

There is a small hole
in the brick wall under the counter shelf
just big enough for a tiny door
a tiny door that may or may not
lead to a kingdom of mice
mice that do not fear cats or men or traps

noble mice
clever mice
kind mice

mice that may or may not be true gods
that may or may not have blood
older than Odin or Zeus or Athena or Isis or Horus
pulsing through their veins and raging in their hearts
old mice of old myths of old times of old fables
living lives of true importance
guarding the virtues and secrets

of why and why not
of how and how not
of when and when not
of where and where not
of and of not

mice that are guardians
of all that is good to know
and all that is too horrible to know
and must be kept secret
from being known at all

no easy task

not for men
not for cats
not for gods

and not for mice

not even for mice that may
or may not be gods

so when you find a small hole
among the bricks
of a wall under a counter of a house
or an office or a coffee shop
that is just big enough for a tiny door
a tiny door that may or may not
lead to a kingdom of mice

know that they are
noble mice
clever mice
kind mice

and if you are able
you may want to build a tiny door
to keep them and their kingdom safe

for though you may be tempted
to know all that is good to know
and you may be tempted
to catch one of these mice
and ask it to spare you a secret or two

remember that these are mice
of noble hearts with noble blood
blood that may or may not
be older than any gods name you may pray to

and they must also always be on guard
for all the things that are too horrible
to know and must be kept secret
from being known at all

and to distract them
for even the slightest of moments
may be the beginning of the end of us all

I am tired...

I am sleep...

I am dream...

I am a miracle
I am a mouse
I am a room born from loneliness
I am a house made of wood
    
     empty of love...

I am a heartbeat without a home

I am a home lost on a road
  on a rod that goes nowhere

I am the nowhere at the end of the ocean
  that leads to nothing

I am nothing at the end

I am the breath of the sea
   stolen by the shores of death
I am death without meaning

  and I am tired...

and I sleep and I dream

of a sea that does not know death
an ocean that has no end
a road that is a home
a home with a beating heart
a love that is a house
a house with rooms
full of mice
mice that tell stories
of miracles that know
no loneliness