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Akira Chinen Mar 2018
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 ****
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
Akira Chinen Feb 2018
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 **** 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.
Akira Chinen Feb 2018
The gods do not greive for thier dead
for they know nothing is permanent
not their robes or shrouds or stars or altars or crosses
they will come and go
as light goes into dark
and dark gives into light
for they know from the first step
they take out of the void
and into names and prayers
when they will exhale and fade back into nothing
leaving only vague myths and flimsy fables
behind with their brittle bones
and they have handed down this story
and printed it on every crease and line
of every leaf of every branch of every tree
and left the equation of time and blood
and life and death
in every shed scale
of snake and fish
on every lost hair
of dog and cat and man
and the mystery
is no mystery at all
not really
the answers are questions
and the questions are answers
and nothing is so small
as not to matter
and no matter
has any weight
except for the matters of love
and love is all that is
and all that every was
and all that will every be
the mother of dreams
the robes of death
the keeper of time
the child of life
are all love
made from love
made of love
being nothing less than
being nothing more than
love
as we are all here today
made of love
made for love
made from love
and this is why
the gods do not grieve
for their dead
Akira Chinen Feb 2018
He stood motionless at the cliffs edge and stared out over the landscape and the  ever elusive horizon, with his heart punching hard against his ribs and his breath calm and deep and steady.  The air carried a warm gentle breeze and the sky held birds of black wings that sang of the sun and the stars and the moon .  He was so still that he could have been an illustration on the page of a book in a story where time had been frozen and maybe he was.  Maybe he was a moment stolen from eternity and sculpted into the shape of a boy holding two feathers longer than he was tall and maybe it wasn't until eternity stole that moment back that he turned and smiled as wide as the moon pretending to be a cat.  Then he turned his head forward and slowly raised his arms until they were parallel with the ground and leaned forward until he fell over the edge.
He fell without fear.  His mouth did not scream or make any sound, it only sat quietly on his face framing the teeth of his smile.  He tucked in his legs and curled into a ball and spun and tumbled in the air.  With the earth rapidly approaching, he stretched his legs back out and began to run and leap and fly through and up and into the sky.  
He was a dream in the shape of a boy pretending to be a bird spreading out its wings and learning how to fly
Akira Chinen Jan 2018
His body fell to the ground and his pulse slowed to a stop and the colors of life in his eyes drained to grey and the last bit of air exited his lungs and he laid there motionless and silent and his chest opened as if his ribs had been cabinet doors and his heart floated up into the sky and into the night and through space and back and forth through time and it was alone in the vast emptiness of it all and with all its scars and stitches and broken and missing pieces it hummed and it beat and it remembered...

it remembered the name in every stitch and every smile that had stolen and kept a piece of it and every heartache in the story of every scar and every love that had ever made it laugh and sing and dance and fly and it remembered all the joy and misery and failure and wonder and everything that had made its life worth living and somewhere inside it smiled
Akira Chinen Oct 2017
She was made of a language
no one could hear
and hand written in perfect cursive
by the scripture of the stars
and made from the sea and salt
of an ocean lost in a tear
and the color of blood
gave her lips all
of its crimson and rage
and she was there
when dreams took their first step
out into the void of the time of nothing
and she weaved his heart
from the poetry of leaves
and his bones from the past
before death had a cloak or a reason
and his flesh from
the soft skin of her kisses
and she tied the string of his heart
to the beat of her own
and no matter the story
or time of eternity
they would find one another
in the pages and between the covers
of the dreams they would have
and the life they would share
as they would invent
and discover and write
and rewrite the books of love
in the language no ears could hear
or eyes could see
but ever heart would feel
in between their first and last beat
Akira Chinen Oct 2017
Remember my love
as the world burns
all around you
and your wings
and flesh and bones
turn to cinder and ash
and smoke
and all things
come to a painful
and bitter end
that with death
we have reason to smile
as in her arms we find
that all that we have suffered
in life is released
to the wind of past
and briefest of memories
as we part do not neglect
or fear the aches
inside your heart
but embrace and grieve
and with each sob
and each tear
to remember
to love always
Akira Chinen Aug 2017
He carved her bones out of the soft spots of time
and the fires of eternity
and cooled and smoothed them in the rivers
that ran down from the mountains
where the old gods were rumored
to have gone mad and fallen asleep
beyond the knowledge and prayers
of all things that breathed and lived
and loved and hoped

He started with the caves that would form the pools
in which her eyes would sleep
and dream and wonder
and then shaped her skull around them
leaving out no detail or necessity
making each curve and line as important as the last

With her head complete he moved to each bone
that would be her spine with the same delicate care for perfection
and from her spine he then formed her ribs
making sure to reinforce each one
yet leave them flexible as it would be their function
to protect her heart and give it room to bloom and grow

He formed a bone of intricate nature
in the center and front of her
for the ribs to attach themselves to
and placed two bones along her collar
and blades on the left and right of her back
from which her arms would sway and swing
and hold things close

and then moved down and began
to chisel out the hills and arcs of her hips
where her legs would hang and twirl and spin
and then chipped away at time and eternity
to fashion every tiny bone of her feet
on which she would walk and run
and leap and dance upon

With the rest of her bones complete
he began to tenderly shape
and cut and sculpt each bone in her hand
making sure they would be pliable and limber
with a touch of delicacy and strength
for with her hands she would weave
dreams and life and love

With the last of her fingertips carved
and cooled and smoothed
and pulled from the river
he laid her bones out carefully one by one
on a blanket that he had stolen
from the robes of death
from the time before gods and men
and stars and trees and language
the time that only spirits and animals
moved through the velvet indigo
of the night sky
and prowled the cosmos alone
to their own songs and laws

He pulled thread from light not yet born
and the black from shadows yet to be cast
and twisted them together
and slowly began to pull her bones into place
and braid and twine her flesh and skin
and hair and eyes
and as her body and shape were completed
he started to weave and sculpt
and form her heart
with the most urgent of care
and within he hid the secrets
of colors to be unseen
and an endless spool of fire
and silk and blood
and the importance of kindness
and compassion

With the last stitch pulled through
and tied and knotted and cut
he had worked himself down
to nothing more than a grain of sand
and dust and wind and he smiled
a tired and worn and complete smile

She was the envy and birth of beauty
and the jealousy and creation of desire
and the first of all dreams and things to come

With her flesh and her limbs and body
and heart complete and whole
and his worn out to near nothing
they made love without their lips touching
or kissing or sighing or moaning
or making any noise at all
and without their hands sliding
or gliding or holding
or their limbs twisting or tangling
or bending or contorting
they plunged through love
and fell into the river
and walked over the mountains
and tip toed past the sleeping gods
of old and forgotten lore
and danced and slept
in the fires of eternity
until she had dreamt of making him
and he had forgotten of making her
and both stories were true
and both only a dream
and some where in the distance of the past
where the time before once lived
and death and dream and love
once fought and lost and won
the wars and battles of long ago
something smiled and then vanished
Akira Chinen Aug 2017
Standing on the corner where all oceans end
Teaching starfish how to fly high up into the sky
And giving them words to sing of lullaby and dream
A never ending task as the starfish come and go
As wishes take their light and life
And they fall back into the breaking waves and mist
To take a moments rest from twinkling through eternal night
Until they feel the soft touch of the hand
Of the girl at oceans end
Akira Chinen Apr 2017
Her stomach swelled with dreams and love and blood and life  as she slowly dragged her fingers carefully down her milky white skin and she arched her back in anticipation as her palms found their resting place at the bottom of her belly where she paused momentarily and then gently slid and stroked and patted and parted and opened and bled and from her blood flowed eternity and from its river swam love and dreams and from dreams life was spun and weaved and in life love had found its home
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