The incense burned thickly on the filing cabinet
where it had been placed into a fancy wooden holder.
Not too close of course to any nearby folder
and far enough away from the fountain to not get wet.
It was always, it seemed, a relatively safe bet
that the smell of the incense got progressively bolder
as you entered into the stream of the smoke's smoulder.
There high up on the furniture where it was set
to stream into my consciousness while I surfed the net.
The Mag Champa scent was of an origin not known by me,
whether it was of nature or of man I knew not.
And even if I once had, by this time I would have forgot.
I pondered upon these weighty thoughts as I got up to see
if the book I just discovered on the world wide web could be
in amongst my library's dusty tomes, that is what I sought
as I wondered amongst the oaken book cases I had bought
decades ago next door to the aptly named "Market Of The Flea".
Then when I saw her portrait, I fell to the ground on one knee.
Brought to my knee by forces inexplicable yet real as daylight.
Her bright smile shining its light down upon me kneeling there in ecstasy!
At that moment time seems to have slowed. No longer inexorably free,
those things it normally affected changed from wrong to right,
from basic to complex, from coarse to fine, here in this now long night.
This common activity turned into a most wonderful adventure at sea!
The same sea that nearly drowned the now visible flight of a nearby bumble bee.
A curtain of mystery fell gently down like a shroud covering my sight
and making one want to flee down these corridors thick with history's blight.
What strange forces were at work here in my den of learning and where from wrought?
All that had been done that I knew of was that incense had been placed and lit.
Oh, and some herbal substance was smoked what seemed like hours ago in an existential fit.
Over this and slavery and disputes over land or water great wars had been fought!
The Drug War nothing but a new Civil War and its unwilling participants knew not
why they had been chosen to play this great game when they had all rather just sit.
And who was this "chooser" after all, why did he get to stop and quit?
Ah, said I, the "Chooser of Unknown Origin" he was. Controlling all thought,
all life, all death. Her portrait fell on my head at that point and I remembered nought.
I stared at the portrait now laying on the floor before me, my head throbbing from the impact.
Such rare beauty as this had deserved such a worthy frame but I now wished I had been less asthetic
and more practical. Perhaps I would have chosen a lighter frame and risk being called heretic.
I picked up her beautiful face and walked over to one shelf from where I would re-enact
the great battles in my mind. Gettysburg, Yorktown, Guadalcanal. One could easily predict
the winners of these make-believe wars, history had proscribed them long ago, given its edict
on how to fight and win. I placed her portrait there amongst the trophies of Rome sacked,
of Greece at Thermopolye, of Lee's Lieutenants. Just temporarily while I gathered my senses, racked
my brain for why I was in such a long reverie. It was her, that was it. That was the missing fact.
She filled my mind now, my life's force spent on her, on loving her, on knowing her, on her alone.
She was my entire life! All that I did was for her, of her, around her, about her, in her.
Having met her just 7 months ago, we had fallen deeply in love and that was for damn sure.
I quickly proposed to her and she just as quickly accepted. The wedding now scheduled, a cone
of silence ringed about the date like it was some National Secret. Her and I alone did own
each other and all they thought, all they felt, all that was in their loving nature
to experience. They were separated by immense time and space differences, but rapture
was the word they used to describe their feelings for each other. True love the thigh bone
of their existence. Forever they would be together, a love like theirs only God had shown.
--------------------------------------
mindbringer, 5 August 2014
where it had been placed into a fancy wooden holder.
Not too close of course to any nearby folder
and far enough away from the fountain to not get wet.
It was always, it seemed, a relatively safe bet
that the smell of the incense got progressively bolder
as you entered into the stream of the smoke's smoulder.
There high up on the furniture where it was set
to stream into my consciousness while I surfed the net.
The Mag Champa scent was of an origin not known by me,
whether it was of nature or of man I knew not.
And even if I once had, by this time I would have forgot.
I pondered upon these weighty thoughts as I got up to see
if the book I just discovered on the world wide web could be
in amongst my library's dusty tomes, that is what I sought
as I wondered amongst the oaken book cases I had bought
decades ago next door to the aptly named "Market Of The Flea".
Then when I saw her portrait, I fell to the ground on one knee.
Brought to my knee by forces inexplicable yet real as daylight.
Her bright smile shining its light down upon me kneeling there in ecstasy!
At that moment time seems to have slowed. No longer inexorably free,
those things it normally affected changed from wrong to right,
from basic to complex, from coarse to fine, here in this now long night.
This common activity turned into a most wonderful adventure at sea!
The same sea that nearly drowned the now visible flight of a nearby bumble bee.
A curtain of mystery fell gently down like a shroud covering my sight
and making one want to flee down these corridors thick with history's blight.
What strange forces were at work here in my den of learning and where from wrought?
All that had been done that I knew of was that incense had been placed and lit.
Oh, and some herbal substance was smoked what seemed like hours ago in an existential fit.
Over this and slavery and disputes over land or water great wars had been fought!
The Drug War nothing but a new Civil War and its unwilling participants knew not
why they had been chosen to play this great game when they had all rather just sit.
And who was this "chooser" after all, why did he get to stop and quit?
Ah, said I, the "Chooser of Unknown Origin" he was. Controlling all thought,
all life, all death. Her portrait fell on my head at that point and I remembered nought.
I stared at the portrait now laying on the floor before me, my head throbbing from the impact.
Such rare beauty as this had deserved such a worthy frame but I now wished I had been less asthetic
and more practical. Perhaps I would have chosen a lighter frame and risk being called heretic.
I picked up her beautiful face and walked over to one shelf from where I would re-enact
the great battles in my mind. Gettysburg, Yorktown, Guadalcanal. One could easily predict
the winners of these make-believe wars, history had proscribed them long ago, given its edict
on how to fight and win. I placed her portrait there amongst the trophies of Rome sacked,
of Greece at Thermopolye, of Lee's Lieutenants. Just temporarily while I gathered my senses, racked
my brain for why I was in such a long reverie. It was her, that was it. That was the missing fact.
She filled my mind now, my life's force spent on her, on loving her, on knowing her, on her alone.
She was my entire life! All that I did was for her, of her, around her, about her, in her.
Having met her just 7 months ago, we had fallen deeply in love and that was for damn sure.
I quickly proposed to her and she just as quickly accepted. The wedding now scheduled, a cone
of silence ringed about the date like it was some National Secret. Her and I alone did own
each other and all they thought, all they felt, all that was in their loving nature
to experience. They were separated by immense time and space differences, but rapture
was the word they used to describe their feelings for each other. True love the thigh bone
of their existence. Forever they would be together, a love like theirs only God had shown.
--------------------------------------
mindbringer, 5 August 2014
