Relaxing and soaking up the rays and a nice cool drink close at hand.
A little music plays somewhere softly in the distance and the afternoon is perfect. So easy to just drift off and sleep...
But you know how it is, suddenly something has changed, something is so vastly different that it wakes you quickly with your mind fully alert, reaching out, desperately sensing!
The sun has gone and the music silenced.
An ominous black sky has replaced the bright blue and you feel the cold. You stand and reach for your shirt and there in the distance, something terrifying, an approaching tornado unreal in its appearance and uncomfortably quiet. Is it real?
Devastation is all it leaves behind it. Debris and falling things fall from the edges of its cloud.........
Our minds are mines of the Solomon’s kind!
Where treasured memories reside along with hopes and dreams and fantasies
Once upon a time an event happened. This event was the end of an era!
But life is made of choices both good and bad. Shadows of tomorrow are cast by the decisions of today and with those choices come consequences.
There was a girl who it seemed experienced all the tragedies evoked by the end of such an era and to see a world collapse when it was the only world she knew gave her more sadness than anyone should ever see. Even if all the sadness from a lifetime could be collected into one small instant and could be experienced in one single second, then that second could well be the last second ever.
Still choices were made and an escape sought!
In that escape she found a new focus of attentions. She built herself a paper world all around that guy and where did it all go?
Time and time again she embraced it, pretending...............and why? Because any actress worth her salt knows that a role won't last for ever and more than that, it is just a role. Know where you end and the character begins!
But some would say to act it convincingly, be it!
Well, she was it. Or rather she was it for him!
Why she was it, no one will ever know, even she doesn't!
But she wanted him and sadly she was used to having the things she wanted!
Bitch!!!
But she knew! She knew all along and always made him feel her dream, made him believe that one day it could be a real thing. Who was he to doubt her? This girl of alluring and beguiling charm (-drop the 'c'-)
So it never happened. Well not the whole ten pennies! The carrot on a stick!
So she set out to find a replacement, like an altruistic but sorry attempt to restore order and like an offering to the Gods!
She played Cupid and brought him together with another girl.
The start of any him and her is filled with delights of exploring, of doubts apparent and still her claws would not retract.
Still she kept pushed in a hope of seeing results fast...
and where did that get her?
I can't really say.
But the moral is obvious.
Don't try to do God's work for him.
Let some things well alone.
So now the saxophone is put away in a tarnished state!
No longer to play its sexy songs!
Its sultriness is soiled.
And you really have to ask..................... What's the point?
The end of an era was sad.
But never as sad as the night that jazz died.
Silence reigns and another era passes!
For a moment then...
The shadows hide her and she silently watches the play, no cue cards and no prompts.
Satisfaction as she sees the play continue its rehearsal, another step back and another!
The orchestral pit is empty and silent like a forgotten cemetery... yet some distant melody still plays
He no longer shouts out for Lenor and Pallas has no ebony bird upon his marbled head!
The only tap tap tapping are my fingers that beat to a new summer of Vivaldi's magnificence.
Ah the bridge of my cello is like the bridge upon which they meet, yet what strings will they employ?
Eros smiles and takes back his weapon!
Bring me my bow and allow me to C minor developments as horsehair quivers my body.
Ascend I do as I remove myself in arterial motion from the quest I set myself.
The Montague’s and the Capulet’s should see the young hearts run free
Ah would I tiptoe across a lily pond to the deepest part of the forest, where sunlight has broken the canopy
Nostradamus laughs and it echoes throughout the trees as he reads my ill scripted quatrains
The fourth month he shouts will be the time of the bewitched spears!
I nod with satisfaction that he does have a point!
Playfully then, I leave the willowed grove and leave the songs of Oberon and Tatiana, for the halls of the mountain King are no place for the Queen of the night and Artemis beckons me away once more.
Maxwell's Lady shall sink like Arthur's Lady in the lake
Excalibur grasped by the spear warrior well into a showery spring
The third house shall hold dreams, yet still my fingers cast gentle ripples
The water should be stilled and the images clear as wolves are held by lilac branch
Cassandra, no matter Apollo's sin, I believed you.