the Epic - Pyper's Dance ~ Beth Nation/William Burns
From: Pyper
Date: Tuesday, October 21, 2008, 6:29 PM
I found him,
I found his words...
How can I explain
the depth,
the breadth,
the height...
I was afraid of heights,
I was afraid of falling,
the view was dizzying
but like a fiend
I wanted to go higher..
Within his words I found his heart,
a heart that beat with love and life,
a heart as cold as the crystalline tears he cried
yet underneath, I felt the heat
I saw the glow...
His silent scream deafening to my ears,
I wanted to help, but I didn't know how.
I didn't know how to heal him.
Me, a healer who cann't heal,
so I closed my eyes searching for a way
perhaps I closed them for a second too long.
I heard the sound of his wings as he flew away,
I turned to leave, tear in my eye
what he didn't see was the crumbs I left behind,
a trail I can follow to find him again
if only I can stop falling...
From: William Burns
Sent: Wednesday, October 22, 2008 8:21:11 AM
And what of his words
Were they offering enough?
What of his thoughts
Of far an exotic places
Beyond the dreams of yesterchildren
Did they please you
Pyper?
On Wed, 10/22/08, Pyper
wrote:
Your words were like my favorite perfume,
exotic, leaving a trail
of hibiscus petals
for me to follow into pocket universes,
a witness of time gone by,
a time that had not happened
and alternate spaces
of things running parallel to my own
limited view of what is.
A teacher of all things I do not understand,
and maybe I do not need to understand,
but accept that there might be more
then I allow myself to see.
And you ask...did they please me?
Were they offering enough?
I can ask the same...
I wanted no more than you were able to give,
I needed only the privilege of reading you,
of knowing you, of sharing this language of poetry
with
you.
Most pleasing...yes, but is it enough?
.....just what is enough when it comes to reading you?
I shall always be thirsty for more...
From: William Burns
Sent: Wednesday, October 22, 2008 3:24:34 PM
And she opened a door
once shut and nailed
Opened it like it was paper
And lo
there was chaos upon the Land
Things moved across the sky
Things moved along the grasses
Things thundered under the Earth
And all was a Maelstrom
And all was in collision
And there was no peace upon this place
All that he was
was
But is no more
All that he is
is
And all the will be?
The problem with Cyto Chaotics
Is you never really know
how the billiards will fall
And she entered . . .
On Wed, 10/22/08, Pyper
wrote:
She peered around the door,
the floor was no longer a floor,
and she was no longer standing on...
What is this place?
The wind was howling,
the sky itself was spinning
debris flew all around
she can hear the chaos,
see things she cann't comprehend
in this dark, strange place.
She was not afraid,
she looked it in the eye
her arms raised and she became a part of it.
She stood there for some time,
hair whipping in the wind,
yards of fabric billowed around her
her head leaned back as she
listened to the sound
listened until she can hear it no more....
her eyes opened
she looked back to the door
and it was no longer a door
but a beating, living thing
disappearing in a flash of light
and when the light dimmed
the cue ball fell...
From: William Burns
She comes to some kind of vaulted structure
right out of a gothic nightmare
timid
she enters
the sound of thunder from the outside
perhaps a sizzling sound somewhere inside the house
she finds an ornate Victorian antechamber
illuminated by flickering points of light embedded in the walls
beyond an inner doorway
she finds an egg shaped chamber
the walls of the chamber are some kind of smooth
glittering translucent stone
twisting up into a ceiling that is a vast bluish lens
Suddenly
the chamber screams with sizzling energies
as lightning cascades down through the lens
he is sprawled on the floor
trying to crawl toward her
out of the chamber
The gates of Heaven open
and a relentless salvo of lightning bolts sizzle him
until he is curled in a fetal position on the floor
"Oh God!" she screams
she runs to him and rolls him face up
the lightning reenters the chamber
grabbing him the way a snake grabs a mouse
she jumps away
he twitches in the current of the fire storm
like some kind of galvanized doll
random bolts peel off and strike at anything
a part of the far wall is vaporized
in a sudden lull
she can see the landscape outside the structure
the lightning returns
and chews on him again
then stops
She wants to go to him but fears the fire
"Why is this happening?"
he weeps
he is bleeding from the mouth and around the eyes
"Honestly, I don't know," he whispers
braving another bolt
she slides close to him and touches his hair
listens to his ragged breathing
the lightning returns with a vengeance
licking the floor around him
she huddles in the door
in the heart of the firestorm
there dance inhuman creatures of energy and light
she can't see what they are doing
she is going blind and deaf in the maelstrom
the door is ripped from its hinges and the walls crumble
falling into the sky. Only the door frame remains
And the thunder
the thunder pounds her . . .
Thursday, October 23, 2008 8:16 AM
From:
"Pyper"
His pain...
She has walked through the fire all her life,
the roar of chaos she can take
the dancing creatures of energy and light,
they are energy and light,
how bad can they be?
But his pain,
she cannot bear the sound of his pain,
even in the maelstrom,
his pain is all she hears...
looking from the door frame,
she sees nothing,
the thunder pounds her,
and through it all,
his pain is all she can hear,
all she can feel...
if only she can touch those inner chasms,
find the switch,
yes, the switch,
there must be a switch?
To cut the circuit,
reroute it somehow
these are things she does not know
does not understand
but she wants to end his suffering...
she feels helpless
but his pain, his suffering must stop...
surely there is something that lies beyond?
From: William Burns
In many lands
Under many skies
There are tales of Ethereal Beings
Creatures of Light and Dark
Angels and Demons
And they serve many functions in these mythologies
Mentors and Tormentors
Messengers and Emissaries
Seekers and Protectors
But in this Tale
They are Tangible Metaphoric Symbols
For intangible thoughts
She is in an underground pool bar
Empty except for the
Tables under those low hanging Tiffany lights
smoky air and the smell of stale beer
The din outside is only slightly diminished
And intermittently a bone jarring thud
and dust sprinkles down for the ceiling
A man sized giant sloth
Right out of the ice ages is racking the balls
And he moves slowly to the far end of the table
Which for a sloth is lightning speed
Tiny points of fire under the thatch of matted head fur
Fix on her
The hairy arm indicates the stand of pool sticks . . .
She selects the straightest one she can find
The cue ball rolls across the table to her . . .
She says "I don't want to play games . . ."
He says "Games are a metaphor . . . like everything else"
She says "I only want to heal . . . not play around"
He says "To heal, you must sometimes hurt . . . i love irony"
She says "What has he done that he should suffer so?"
He says "He is what he is and that which he is demands his current state . . .
your question is 'Why does it matter to you . . . why are you here?'"
She is silent
He says "You may leave at any time" and then he coughs
Or is it a laugh?
Thursday, October 23, 2008 4:26 PM
From:"Pyper"
Her eyes of green
looked at him questioningly,
she thought to herself,
did he laugh?
And if he did, does he find me amusing?
She stared for what seemed forever,
he held her gaze finally asking,
"Are you going to break?"
It was her turn to laugh,
break, how fitting,
Am I going to break?
You would like that sloth,
wouldn't you.
No, I'm not going to break,
not even close.
No stranger to pain am I,
no stranger to humiliation
degradation, mutilation....
No, I'm not going to break.
And why do I care?
Why shouldn't I...
too much uncaring how it is,
Why do I care?
Does it matter why?
Some things are beyond explanation,
I feel drawn,
a deeper connection,
as if his healing depends on something...
something that is connected to me,
to this life as we know it.
I know I can leave,
and if I walk out that door,
another will open,
and I will find my way back again and again...
through another time, another place, another dimension.
Silence, as the two held each others gaze,
she held the stick,
and in a blink of her eye
her gaze shifted to the table,
pulling the stick back,
she broke.
Thursday, October 23, 2008 11:40 PM
From:
"William Burns"
Add sender to Contacts
To:
"Pyper"
she can feel the tiny red eyes
burning into her scalp
but this only improved her game
she had grown up
with a pool table in the living room
and she took great pride in beating not only her brother
but all the male members of her family
she had sunk solids on the break
and was playing two balls ahead
the sloth did not shuffle
did not twitch
he did put some kind of huge coin in the juke
and the ensuing sounds
would have made great dance music
for the recently deceased
but he didn't sway to the music
he just waited for her to make a mistake
and it happened
she was working a particularly difficult
bank shot and the english on the cue
was too much
she scratched
with three balls still on the table
it had been a good run
she looked for a reaction from the sloth
nothing
she reached into the pocket
and passed the cue ball to him
his claw snatched it in a very unsloth fashion
he hovered over the table
squared his shot
and sunk the first stripe
neither of them heard the music
or the tunder
or the shocks that shook the building
his form was perfect
unhurried and geometrically perfect
he didn't play english or spin
he lined them up and knocked them down
but as is sometimes the case
with geometry players
he ended in a shot he cann't make
and his only shot was through the 8 ball
she watched as the tiny wheels in his head
cranked the math
then he shot
at nothing
hitting nothing
he turned and swayed back to his watching post
the cue ball lined up on a decent shot for her
she smiled as it fell
as did the other two . . .
there was no way to the 8
Friday, October 24, 2008 8:31 AM
"Pyper"
She felt his eyes,
she looked at the table,
then back up to him.
Swallowing hard,
she held the stick up,
deliberately chalking the tip
slowly, calculatingly....
Her eyes never moved from his,
Taking a deep breath
she exhaled and said,
"So what is the point of all this?
He just continued to stare,
she can hear him breathing,
almost a gurgling,
but he didn't falter,
his eyes were piercing through her,
she felt so much riding on this shot...
but what?
The sweat was trickling down her back,
she felt a bit uncomfortable,
not knowing,
how she hated not knowing,
but then again...it is all a game of billiards is it not?
This life, the one after and the one before,
it is all a game, and depending if you have the shots lined up
depends on what path you will take,
she didn't like the unpredictability of this game,
it can go either way,
and here she was with this eight ball again.
The sloth shifted, leaning his weight on the other foot,
he didn't sigh, but something came from him...
she cann't tell what he was feeling,
masked as he was...
She looked back down to the table,
it looked hopeless,
might as well get it over with
the silence was killing her,
even with the din of what was going on above,
the dust particles were floating in the stream of light
time seemed to stand still,
and this shot seemed important somehow...
She lined it up the best she can,
looking up at him, not wanting him to know how nervous she was,
she smiled, a wide genuine smile,
her eyes sparkled,
perhaps with the feverish excitement of what was to come,
perhaps with pure fear...
Taking a deep breath,
she pulled the stick back,
and took her shot...
"William Burns"
Just as her cue ball grazed the eight
the entire building . . . lurched
the lights flickered and in the strobe effect
she saw the shifting earth helped her make the shot
The eight sunk
and the cue no where near a pocket
Just then a rafter cracked
Jagged and more then several tons
plumeted for her
But a hairy arm moving lightning fast
caught it
The sloth moved under the weight
as the rest of the build fell around them
It was then that she noticed its smell
a somehow not unpleasant smell
"You go now"
It whispered as though under great strain
she ducked and looked
"What about you?"
"You won this game go"
"But you'll be . . ."
And the rafter broke lose as the walls tried to cave
But his legs held back the tons of weight
"Stupid woman child go now"
she scampered under the tables and made it to the door
seconds before the entire space collapsed
she turned to regard the rubble
where a building had stood over her
and she shook
the kind of shaking that you get
the first time you really understand Death
she shook the shaking of a child who knows no restraint
she shook . . .
How long was she so?
How are the hours of our lives numbered?
How can anyone say when they a numb?
Say this
An infinite time later she was certain
nothing survived under the building rubble . . .
A time later she looked at the sky filled with chaos
she looked but only started to see . . .
tiny scraps of paper
a few at first
but more on the winds
more and more
a torrent of paper scraps . . .
with words on them
Poetry
the paper scarps had phrases
stanzas . . .
she caught several as they blew past
folded them like hands in prayer
after she read them
He was there in the words
she can hear his song above the din
and yet . . .
His words were part of the din
"What is IT?"
she screamed
"What is it?"
she cried
"What is it?"
she whispered
"WHAT DO YOU WANT OF ME?"
only the grinding chaos
and the hiss whisper of the bits of paper . . .
Later
Much later
she realized that she was hungry
and she tried eating the paper bits flying by
but they would not feed her hunger
She stumbled to a rivulet
choked with debris
and sought a baptism in the polluted waters
The waters eased her thirst
but not her hunger
Saturday, October 25, 2008 1:31 AM
"Pyper"
She kneeled down,
scooping up what she thought was water,
and it didn't matter,
it was wet,
she needed something to wipe the tears
tears that fell for the sloth,
fell for him...
How did she find herself here?
Many strange places have opened up for her
she has seen too much tragedy in her life,
and this was no different.
She choked on the words
hungry as she was for them,
why won't he write them for her?
She thought about the song,
his words ringing out in her mind,
why is he so obsessed with WHY?
Can he not just accept that she is here
because she wants to be?
His pleas are so loud,
his words...
there is something within his words
that pulls her so...
is it love?
is it hunger?
is it curiosity?
it is what it is...no more no less.
The answers don't matter any more,
but the poetry,
the words of universal language
this beautiful language of poetry....
and him, his pain,
she cannot leave him
as long as he suffers so,
perhaps it is his pain that leads her...
she is a healer after all
and healing those who say they can't be healed
seems to be her weakness,
or is it a curse....
10/26/08, William Burns wrote:
Suddenly the wind withheld it fingers
And bits of paper fell to the ground
Stained paper
crumpled and wet and . . .
It was not unlike snow
But the absence of the wind
Did little to lessen the din
And in the distance something . . .
Piles of the paper would heave up
Then fall
Something was moving under the paper
Something was moving within the poetry
She scrambled up form the dirty creek bed
She climbed up on a jagged rock outcrop
And she can see it was heading straight at her
Whatever it was within the words
It sought her . . .
There was no sun
But the was Light from every direction
The papered landscape was . . . peaceful
In a truly surreal fashion
And it was close
The closer it got the faster it moved
She feared it would hit the rocks on which she perched
And shatter them
It made a crunching hiss sound
Like super cooled snow across a drift
Whatever . . . it was
Stopped about an arm's length from the rock
Every so gently
Ever so slowly
A crystalline dragon form lifted from the
Paper snow . . .
It cast about for a moment until it found her
and slowly it leaned toward she rock precipice
It was somehow not the devilish dragons of western culture
Or the comic dragons of the orient
It was the kind of animal
An artistic engineer would design
Sapphire eyes set in orbits of diamond
It glowed with an inner luminescence
The color seemed to change . . . slowly
Folded wings of sterling
It stared at her but remained silent
She looked away and pretend to ignore it
But it remained . . .
And it was perfectly still
Debris crossed the sky
Planets danced crazy zig zags across the sky
But this crystal crusted creature
The size of several houses remained perfectly still
“Are you hungry?†came a thunderous voice
She snapped around but said nothing
'm'Lady, are you hungry?'
She noticed that the jaws did not articulate the words
'Well . . . yes' hunger shot through her anew
With deft precision the left foreleg reached under the paper snow
And produced several paper wrapped cakes the size of her hand
The dragon gently placed these beside her
Then rummaged up a flask of pale blue wine
Some of the cakes tasted of beef and almond
Others tasted of parsley
Some were sweet and sour
And the wine was more of a flavored water
But it went well with the cakes
She ate in silence
As was her custom
The Crystal dragon did not move
She decided to start a conversation
“Do you have a name?†she asked
'I have no name – only a function'
“What is your function?â€
'At the moment it is to see that you are fed and satisfied'
“Do you want to know my name?â€
'No – I wish only to serve you'
“What are you – are you part of him?â€
'Yes
I am a subfunction of his mind'
“What is it?
Why is this place so . . . troubled
He is talented and can make the sky change
I have seen him do it
He can have made vast meadows and green fields
Not this . . . this chaos of shattered earth
And . . . and all this mess
What is it?â€
'I will answer
But you must understand
I am part of all this
So my answers are not objective . . .'
“Give me what you can . . .â€
'This that you see is the mental/spiritual equivalent
To his body's immune system.
He is injured and this is how his metamystic immune system
Tries to root out the infection . . .'
“Is it working?â€
'No'
“Why?â€
'Speculation on my part leads me to surmise
That the injury separated . . . divided him
And he is not whole'
“What happened?
He is so strong . . . what injured him?â€
'Another of his kind . . .
A woman of his kind'
“There are no others of his kind . . .â€
'Point of fact m'Lady there are seven
and several Transcendents – such as yourself'
“Why?
Why would anyone do such a thing?â€
'I can not speculate on her motivations
There are several conflicting theories
But none make any kind of consistent sense'
“How?â€
'He fond her drifting in Darkness
In a part of the sky refereed to as
The Far Places
He – I . . .
I have known
Seven sets of Black Holes
Known seven hearts that live beyond horizons
of the infinite darkness
in black holes of Absolute Despair
though living is perhaps not the proper phrase
And while I may wonder what stars were lost
When they collapsed
This particular dark star was cloaked in the
purest Light
And who can have known that all that brightness
was the death cry of billions of stars being ripped apart
Their starfire hearts bursting
dumping their stellar essence in microseconds
There she was
The Tiger of Darkness
hidden in the death glow of Angels
I can only marvel at the forces
that must have created this creature
What kind of past must have collapsed upon her
creating this naked singularity of shattered simplicity
I dreamed of her reaching
but never quite touching
screaming in the silence of space
As she slipped below the still
dark waters of her event horizon
She dragged parts of me
Parts of him . . . she crushed . . .
Her memory
the albatross around his neck
He is divided and only one of his kind can do that'
The crystal dragon started to collapse back into the paper
“No – waitâ€
The dragon paused
“What will heal him?â€
'This is not a fact I have
I do not know . . .'
And with that
It disappeared
Sunday, October 26, 2008 9:02 AM
"Pyper"
She watched the Dragon disappear,
standing for an indefinite period of time
wondering if she had seen him at all.
He was magnificent,
unlike any she had ever imagined,
and she was sure she had not seen the last of him.
Walking over to the crumpled pieces of paper
she picked them up,
one, two...there were so many
and each were stained with the purplish color
of ink, like when it was wet and it just became
a purplish bruise of that that had been written.
She grieved for the words that were surely written there,
clutching them to her chest looking up into the sky
as troubled as this place was,
there was still beauty within it,
one just needs to seek it out,
it is here,
and she can see it
hear the pulse beat of something
someone still living
still breathing...
She almost felt like Dorothy, in a strange land,
but there was no yellow brick road,
no Toto to keep her company
and for the first time,
she is scared, really scared.
Tears began to fall,
her face stained like the paper,
she looked more like a homeless girl
looking for a place to stay
her gate slow
not knowing where to go.
She was not worried though,
she always ended up where she needed to be,
of that there was no doubt,
something greater was leading her,
calling to her,
and she had to just follow the sound
of something far beyond what she knew,
it was alive, and beat inside her,
and she can do nothing but walk onward.
She may not be able to heal him...
damn that woman for hurting him,
one would think with so few of their kind,
they would be protecting each other
not destroying one another
was that her FUNCTION?
And if it was, what function must she have in all of this?
Surely there was more to this than mere FUNCTIONS?
Not sure if she liked the term, as if we were all machines,
she preferred to operate not from the mechanics of her inner workings,
but from her heart.
No...she may not be able to heal him...
(although, she has not given up hope that somewhere,
somehow she would find the means and the way)
but, can she help him?
Will he let her?
Sunday, October 26, 2008 9:44 PM
"William Burns"
The wind changes
It tugged at her clothes like a playful dog
There
Just cresting the horizon
She sees a tiny ebonblue ship coursing toward her
Across a sea of anarchy
The ship is such that
it is sometimes difficult to actually see
It can easily be mistaken for a graceful sea bird
No
It is a swan
a swan boat
It’s billowing sails can be mistaken for clouds . . .
As it nears her she can make out details
It is an ebonblue swan
On the bow Andromache
wife of the Broken Warrior
The ship comes to her and stops
She tries to find a way onto the deck
But can't
She sits in the shadow of the ship
And tries to talk to her
And the ship answers
'I have come seeking you . . .' it says
“Dear ship Andromache
How may I board you?â€
The ship opens its wings and extends it legs
Its bow arching . . .
She finds a way and climbs aboard
The ship resumes its original configuration . . .
The wind fills the sails
The wings extend
and the tiny ship lunges into the sky
Before she can say anything
They are above the sky
In the endless night of Space
She says
“I tire of this game
It is pointless . . .â€
And the ship plummets
“What are you doing?†she screams
'If you wish to end this voyage
I must take you back . . .'
“No
No please
Let us continue . . .â€
And again the ship takes the spaceways
The world is a vast blue globe beneath them
Dark ships glide the rivers in the sky
She says
“You know from up here . . .
There is a kind of . . . beautyâ€
'I have often thought that myself'
A time passes
She can not see all of the World
But she can see it was complex
Patterns tugged at her awareness
“It just that I don't see my part in all thisâ€
'None of us do
But you have come further than any before you'
“But to what end?
Why me
Why now?â€
'He is wounded
This is an operational matrix of his mind
A metaphoric representation of his injury . . .
By traversing the aspects within this metaphor
You aid in the process of his healing . . .'
Then she saw it
On the horizon a . . . a bruise upon the land
'Its an eclipse . . .
A shadow falls across the land
And everything in the shadow dies . . .'
“But its huge . . .â€
'Yes
Devastation
Beyond your imagination'
“Why?
Why does it have to be like this?â€
'Young one
Who can know such things
I am but a simple ship
I know what was
and I know what is
And if that shadow continues . . .
I know what will be . . .'
Monday, October 27, 2008 8:24 AM
"Pyper" Pyper@...
Adagio dreams
intricately choreographed
slightly flawed
the tempo grotesquely off.
Her mind wandered within dreamlike states
Andromache grew silent
both transfixed by the eclipse
the pain,
the death,
the cries only she can hear.
A tear in her eye,
she cann't believe what she saw,
but in many ways expected no less.
Her hand outstretched before her,
finger leading the way,
colors flew around her mind,
nothing was as it seemed,
she stood peering over the edge
eyes glazed,
she turned, looked at Andromache,
smiled as the tear fell
and before the tear landed in a splash
she stepped off the ship
she looked so beautiful sailing in the sky
a wounded bird suddenly finding her wings.
She heard Andromache's scream as she descended
falling...
falling...
Monday, October 27, 2008 12:54 PM
William Burns
She plummets
Trying all those sky diving moves she saw once
And she’s doing a pretty god job
She notices something falling with her
It starts as a spec
But soon glides up beside her
It appears to be a rock
‘Do you think he will catch you?’ it says
“Does it matter?â€
‘Free fall rhetoric is a dangerous sport . . .’
“More dangerous than stepping off a ship
Miles above the World?â€
‘Are you evil?’
“Why do you ask?â€
‘Because evil always seeks its own destruction
And it would appear that you have chosen
To destroy yourself . . .’ it says
“Some people are like fireworks
They are only beautiful
When they are destroying themselves . . .â€
They fall for a span in silence
‘Rumor has it that you are afraid of heights . . .’ it says
“I was afraid . .
Well I still am
Afraid of flying . . .
Afraid of heights . . .â€
She says
“This is taking a long timeâ€
‘Oh it starts out slow enough
But it picks up a bit toward the end’
‘So you are a healer?’ it asks
“Used to be
Never very good at it though . . .â€
‘Funny that
With your skill and persistence
I would have thought you were one of the better . . .’
“I just never made enough of a differenceâ€
Silence
“You talk a lot for a rock†she says
‘I’ll forgo the typical joke about listening to rock music’
And she laughs
despite herself
The ground is starting to visibly grow
‘Just one thing before we hit
How can you heal him
If you can’t heal yourself?’
“That’s pretty insensitive . . .â€
‘For Pete’s sake
I’m a rock’
Something is happening below them
A dark circle is expanding
or is she falling toward it
Definitely getting bigger
A vast hole in the Earth opens before her
She had no way of telling how big it is
But it must have be vast
The lip zips past her
and she still can’t see bottom
Just before she passes ground level she hears
“I will not be the instrument of your destructionâ€
Now she is falling down the hole
It seems to be a mile or so wide
and she is dead center
She says
“Now where is the wascaly wabbit?â€
Below there is nothing
Total silence
Total darkness
And yet she falls
She can see nothing
But she hears . . . something
She some kind of purring a song
Tonal
Soft warm and fuzzy
And sad
dreadfully sad
She closes her eyes to listen
Which is kind of redundant
because she can’t see anything anyway
Its his song
He wants to go back to the Her
And mend all those tattered garments
Fix all those fragile things broken
He has come unstuck in Time
And he is walking with her in the cool of the evening
Talking with Her
Watching Her as she moves across the stage
Finally catching her eyes and seeing for the first time
For the very first time in Her cobalt eyes
A kindred spirit
Another of his kind . . .
But there is a counter verse in this song
She is singing to him
Telling him that she is dangerous to him
Telling him to leave because she doesn’t love him
But an undercurrent in the implications
Says that She loves him too
Freefall in darkness
And he wants to go back to go back . . .
But the currents of Time
Keeps sweeping him into the Future
Something brushes her lips
Soft as shadows
He is there
There is a second’s hesitation in the chorus
She says
“Now that I have your attention . . .
Sorrow should not last for eternity
forgiveness should set you free . . .â€
Monday, October 27, 2008 6:56 PM
"Pyper"
As soon as she said it,
time stood still,
or it felt like it did,
she didn't feel like she was falling
she felt suspended,
still,
and the silence,
the dark and the silence was stifling
How she hated the dark,
almost as much as flying
her anxieties were just now catching up to her..
"Rock?"
Her voice echoed through the pitch
and was answered with a deafening roar
as the rock hit the bottom.
The sound reverberated all around her,
she put her hands to her ears,
she couldn't hold back the sobs
it was so dark,
and this soul shattering roar
was echoing through her very bones.
She was beginning to panic,
what had she done?
She cried out into the darkness,
"HELP ME PLEASE!"
His mournful song started up again,
beautiful in its melodies,
it grew louder,
not really a song,
but the hint of it playing....
was it in her mind?
She wasn't sure,
but it played over and over
lulling her into a calm,
she saw the stage,
she saw them,
it was like a movie,
you know one of those old projectors
the light flickering,
the reels spinning
the whir of the machinery...?
The kind of movie you watch
in sweet remembrance,
tears forming,
brimming just over the edge
but not really falling,
feeling the sadness that exists
in the lonely places in the heart.
She felt his need to go back,
felt his desire to make things right...
You, the master of time travel,
don't you know you can't change the events
that have already past?
If you did, how would it affect all other things to come,
the things that were prior?
Where would you be? Where would I be?
I know the travel of time....I've seen what
could happen.
I mean, did you ever think about how changing the course
of things that have already happened would begin a chain of events
changing the course of the lives of those we know,
or are about to know, or may never meet?
Cataclysmic results, I am sure.
Not sure what that means...
I am merely a healer,
and sorrow should not last an eternity,
forgiveness should set you free....
Not that simple though is it?
I should know,
and perhaps the rock was right...
How can I heal you, when I can't heal myself?
Imagine ME,
jumping from that ship,
falling, falling....
WHEN I FEAR FALLING!
Somewhere in her subconscious
a pin point of light appeared,
growing brighter, bigger,
her eyes trying to adjust
she turned toward it
blinded by the sudden onslaught of light
Hello?
Anyone there?
Monday, October 27, 2008 10:37 PM
From: "William Burns"
After a time her eyes adjusted
She saw that she floated above the molten core of the planet
And he was standing there
As though floating over an inferno
Was the kind of thing you did everyday
Not tall
Not short
Not heavy
Not thin
The only thing othernormal about him
were his eyes
The flicker blue of an azure sky
He lifted his hand
In it there was a light switch
As though it had been surgically installed
in the palm of his hand
He said
'Here's you switch
Flip it and go . . .'
“No . . .
Its not as easy as that . . .â€
He shrugged his shoulders
Put his hand in his pocket . . .
She said
“One thing . . .â€
'Yes?'
“Please turn the music downâ€
He did so
He looked her over
Her tear stained dirty face
Her tattered rags
Her bruised and battered hands
And he smiled
He said
'You are persistent
I will give you that . . .'
She coughed
or was it a laugh
He said
'Why in the name of God
Did you jump off the boat?'
“Seemed like the thing to do at the timeâ€
'And if I hadn't intervened?'
“I would have died . . .â€
'Thank you for not saying
That I am too good to let you die for no reason
While that may or may not be the case
I do not wish to be reminded . . .'
Silence
'But why? Why do it?' he said
'I am not worth this
Worth you . .
Better I pass into dark . . .'
“Please!†She interrupts
“Please don't say that . . .â€
'Its my nightmare
I'll say what I . . .'
“Please . . .†she cried
'Got it . . . no – I get it
I won't do it you know . . . I will not . . .
I won't go back and change things . . .
It wouldn't be right . . .
It would mean I didn't – don't love her
And I do . . .
Dear Sweet God forgive me
I do love her . . .'
He started to break up
'And there . . and there is
There isn't one Damned thing I can do
About it . . .'
He was curling into a fetal tuck
The core of the planet shook with his sobs
Tuesday, October 28, 2008 1:46 AM
"Pyper"
She stood for a moment,
overwhelmed by his emotion..
She stepped toward him,
like the mother of all living things
she held him,
her love seemed to embrace the whole uni'Verse,
she weeped for him,
for the world...
why must such pain come to pass...
why must one bear such burdens for love...
love should be beautiful...
his tears fell to the ground,
silver crystals at first
then honest to goodness salt,
watering the earth,
and the very spot his tears pooled
green, blue, red, violet...
colors all around...
Look what you are capable of!
Even the most devastating pain
can produce such beauty...
she took his hand,
he looked at her with uncertainty
and she smiled,
I jumped because I do care,
to show you that you are worthy...
I had to, I had to get your attention
I wanted you to see...
you are enough,
your words are enough
have always been enough for me.
I ask no more and no less than you are able to give
I could have never left,
your pain was too much for me to ignore
I had to come back and try again
the door would have kept opening
don't you see that?
And I would have died trying...
Her eyes closed,
kneeling before him
she whispered in his ear...
Lady Beth of Pyper Rain
in your service...
Peace be with you
mad poet...
Peace
be with you....
and she faded to black,
only a hint of her remained
she left the door open
just in case...
Quixotic as ever
William C. Burns, Jr.
matrix437@...
Be careful of the questions you ask
you might just get the real answer
Be careful of the wishes you make
they might just come to pass . . .
|
Having problems with message search?
Offline 
Send Email
