Image by Виктория Бородинова from Pixabay
Abstracting the consequences of the veils I fell into the sky along the stepping stones of my life but I got only as far as the other side of the river before I had to come back again.
Through the veils of my life then, where all things are made of nothing, where the request for beauty is given in the passing, and passing, it is gone.
Sometimes it seems the veils are lifting to reveal that clarity, that grace of being, that place where love is real and now is the only moment there is.
And sometimes it is, almost revealed. But in the back-story of the underground express, something else was going on and was the news of the day and was most insistent.
Image by Isa KARAKUS from Pixabay
The clock on the wall said it was early yet though, and the voice had a broken arm where I was sailing my sails as usual and listening in. I drew back in alarm at this and adjusted my tie and pulled up my socks, and goofed it to the nearest bar where I ordered a double with a chaser, and bring the waitress but leave the clown.
I told the bar man to hold my mail and concentrate on the drinks and drip feed me every seventeen seconds.
A girl walked into the space, and coming up to the bar she gave the bar-man a note, and then walked out.
The bar-man looked at it for a while but couldn’t make head or tail of it, and so showed it to me, and said: what’s that?
A tax return I said into his crazy eyes, and took a sip of beer.
Image by engin akyurt from Pixabay
I never got a tax return like that before he said, and asked me if I wanted another.
Pulling the hood over my eyes I peered harder into my future, and found that broken tears were pulling the dry rain over my face until I couldn’t breathe anymore, until I could say nothing more than: yes, of course I want another one I said back to him as I silenced my fears and looked around me to see if there was anything to see. On finding nothing I turned back around and went deeper into my soul and looked for that tiny silence that sounded like a bee buzzing and buzzing.
Buzzing and buzzing it went, and drove me crazy until I was falling into the sky once again.
Oh, the tax-return of an old dollar had me sparking and sending me messages in the underground that I must never be late for the crow’s comfort, whatever that means.
Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay
Sometime after midnight I pulled my face out of my hands and looked up at the bar-man and said: give me another one.
In the astrals of this night, I shall be nowhere else but here, where I am, waiting and dying to see you again, my love, and looking up I saw clouds racing across the sky.
So, drip-feel me in oil, and paint me into the sidewalk of life, and raise my sidewalls as well if you like, and I’ll still be there for you baby, but let me down and you’ll walk home alone.
I was talking to myself again.
You know that time of night when you’re seeing double? Well, I think I’m about there. And maybe it’s time to fall into the sky again…
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
Images from Pixabay
