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  • Virtual Pensieves 5
    7 Nov 2002

    I can't stop my smile from smiling all the way from here to there and then from there to here and back to there and from there to back.. and it ping pongs out of my mouth in a valiant attempt to fly across the skies tonite and it takes both my hands clasped around the rumtiamariacoffeeandwhippedcream flavoured tissue-paper thin promise, to force the blessed redroseandviolet smelling grin back into my mouth and to gulp its sweetness down my throat and exile it to the deepest darkest dungeons of my waiting heart guarded by the twins of Hope Past and Hope Extinguished.

    But even then, Panic throbs the declaration of emergency throughout the body of frenzied neurons and Terror sirens systematically and authoritatively to my feeble brain ordering the immediate boarding of the Memory Train of Thought and forces the unlock and review of a wretched smelly Pandorian Past by rewinding and pausing through a life 1 and 2 years ago..

    A journey back to the vapid rancid Civil Wars of the soul where millions died as the clammy swamp of horror and the bloody noise of abuse and a million recalcitrations and uncaring defences and hurt and confused headaches plundered the soul and purged all hope and prohibited happiness. Thus the body of the soul that is living is made to relive the past and is told to sink, once again, into the now swampy mush of tangled tears that lie wasted beyond the murky tears of disillusionment and gutted grief in Sadness Squalor Section 18, where no angel dare tread. Thus they take in and remind themselves of years old folly linked to vicious dark lords with yellow gloves and to momentary surges of affection now long subsided and forever sediment in the murky Residual rot of love gone bad.

    On cue, Panic screams the battle cry of enlightenment and Terror jerks the world back to the present reality as the small girl with the red bandana of velvet muslin tears at the fabric of my soul and the carefully laid bed of reason shuts down the Memory Train of Thought and plunges everyone into the dull cold comfort of a familiar peaceful solitude.

    But Hark!

    A strong steady light scissor-slashes smoothly through the velvet darkness at Faintest edge, Last line of Horizon, End of the World.... glimmering and waving and laughing and teasing and leading and smiling and grinning and promising..... even as Panic and Terror valiantly draw attention to the convoy of lovelighting stuck ship after ship that crash and wreck in the tumultuous, choppy seas led astray after trusting other better known lighthouses that merely extinguish the lamp of unlit desire as they siphon out flammable fuel from the depths of the unchartered forested ocean of red passion, leaving it beaten black and pummeled blue and shimmering in agony and unspoken silver whispers of wishes...almost as a warning against this new silent Unknown.

    But again and again, across the screeching silver screams that sssssssssssssssssssssslice thru the aaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghanguished asphyxiating angst, the silently unknown He, keeps smiling loudly, leaning easily, simply over the rocks and the choppy winds of the tumultuous oceans with a ludicrously languid ease, resonating reason reassuringly all the while reaching out a tempting trusting bare hand that caresses and soothes away aches and fears and lulls Hope past and Hope extinguished into a fatal sleep that will see them reborn whole again..

    And with a patient yank and skip of a conspirator's twist, he coyly unlocked the hitherto guarded grin and firmly sssssssssswoops up my captured heart in a brilliant strategy that executes the unsuspecting General Panic and Major Terror who draw unconsciously closer to him during the ensuring War of Words with an irony that blinks silent and still when the wrecked heart needs it most but which never stops clasping it firmly within the coils of promised trust and unspoken hunger that resonates through my soul sending aching shivers asunder while casting a mesmerizing frozen spell over the white hot ocean of passion, recolouring the dreary swamps the colour of a loaf of laughter thinly sliced and jammed on both sides in the spokes of the wheel of time.

    Time thus loses all meaning and deep within the fresh stillness, Panic spins out of control and rams headlong into the turnpikes of Terror and they both dash about sprinkling his unheard words on the setting sun so that it could dust a calming white dew the colour of snowflakes that chime cheerfully in the rising moonlight maidenwind's dances and send out golden fireworks that shine pink and violet hugs and smear yellow dopey grins across the rocks and rotting remnants of a rejected past before plastering them with a feather light deep green touch of the midnight sky laced with a manly hue of blue and silver before doing a back flip and a sideway turn into the brilliant two tone mahogany magenta muslin.
    For the dreamweaving, my friends, has once again begun....

    Music magically maneuvers the maddening multitudes of a rejuvenated soul over the maniac masses surging towards the more and more magnificent melody of two heated hearts frantically fighting an all powerful inevitable mind-blowing frantic fusion charged, challenged, fuelled, funnelled by the humming, beating, singing, dancing of the sweet subtle nubile nymphs at the loom of dreamweaving who spin and spin about a symbiotic harmony in a love-silk fabric woven into the soul of the two glowing hearts barely sated with the scintillating shines of the summer of September Stars and sparkles of the buds baked in the dew of passion and awash with affection, while quietly dazzling brilliant with the interwoven promises of heated caresses and relentless kisses and assorted hungry, uncultured, uncivilized, savage emotions in a jar of ignorance that make the base of all pleasures purer than the tangy lemon scents and elderflower cream lining the leafy blanket of winter produced at the pyramids and cooled at the Poles.

    This is then, the story of a man and a woman and a love that spreads out over and under the edges of the million ends of the world like a beautiful havenly bedspread beside the freshly rejuvenated tankard of untested, untasted love doused in a heady all powerful concoction of reborn newborn Hope whole and complete, silent but happy, lying in wait for eyes to lock, fingers to tangle, hearts to mingle, souls to touch.. and more miracles to burst into reality...