I couldn't sleep last night: paranoia and loneliness kept gnawing at me. So, I got up around 1:20am, went to the bathroom, washed my face, and made some tea. For some unknown reason, every time I find myself in one of these pits of depression, I tend to cling to the darkness. So, I didn't turn on any lights. I just sat in the dark and drank my tea. Actually, it wasn't completely dark - there was the light of the moon. Anyway, as I was drinking my tea, I became fixated on the movement of the trees outside. It was rather windy, and I could hear the bellowing of the wind. There were palms, and stems of flowers flying everywhere. It's moments like these that I live for. I love the feeling that I get when I see nature coming undone. It makes me feel alive, and at home with myself. I went to the screen and placed my free hand on the glass in an attempt to feel the subtle vibrations of the space. And in the distance, I could see the sea - black and shimmering from the moon. The waves were something else - they were ripping, and rolling, and dissolving; the ebb and flow, the comings and goings of life. What you throw in goes back, and on and on it goes. And suddenly, as I stood watching this spectacle, I was inspired. Whatever fears had awakened me where suddenly dispelled - like a grain of sand on the shore - thrown back into the oblivion of that mysterious Pacific. I could feel an adventure in the air - some passion calling me to the shore.
So I went. That night, I walked along the shore. And I didn't have any sense of direction. I didn't know when I was going to stop and turn around, or where exactly I was intending to go. I was just walking. And you know, it's interesting because when you least expect something, but you want it so badly - it just pops up. And so here I was walking along the shore - with no sense of direction, and suddenly I spotted a cave a couple feet ahead of me. Spurred on by this find, and feeling extremely adventurous at this point, I quickened my pace. When I was a couple of inches away from the opening, a man emerged. He was dressed in flannel sweats, and he was holding a lantern.
I didn't really know what to do. I was in his territory, so it seemed, and a part of me wanted to just turn back at that point - but something kept me standing there. He was walking towards me - the lantern in his hand. Suddenly he shouted, "What are you doing?"
The wind was blowing very hard, and it was rather difficult to see him clearly, much less hear him. "What?" I started walking towards him
"What are you doing here" he said, "I've been watching you for the past 35 minutes. A storm is coming, you shouldn't be out here." As he was telling me this, he reached for my hand, "Here, come on let's go".
The truth, was that I was glade he said that. I didn't realize it, but I was cold and shivering. I took his hand, and like a lost child who just found her big brother, I went with him back to the cave.
Surprisingly, the inside of the cave was cozy, warm, and very spacious. It looked more like the living room of a tiny cabin, then the inside of a cave. He put the lantern down, and reached for a robe. He placed it around my shoulders. "Are you crazy? You had me scared there."
Up close, right there - he was boyish, manly, rugged.
(Sorry about this, but I'll write the rest tomorrow - it's late. Night.)
A. Not a poem.
B. Needs lots of editing, for example:
I could see the sea - black and shimmering from the moon.
The moon made the sea black and shimmering, or you could see that from the light of the moon?
he was boyish, manly ...
Pick one, or explain how that can be.
I didn't realize it, but I was cold and shivering.
"I hadn't realized it ..."?
It wasn't intended to be a poem, and yeah it does need alot of editing - it was improve, rambling at night. But thanks for the feedback.
So ... where's the rest of it we were promised?
Someone said that sculpting means starting with a block of stone and cutting away everything that isn't the statue. (Attributed to Michelangelo, re "David," but probably not his.) Here's a poem I found in Ash's post by cutting away everything that wasn't the poem. MARIAN
Cling to the Darkness
(A Bedtime Story)
paranoia and loneliness
gnawing at 1:20am
sat in the dark and drank my tea
in the distance
the sea - black and shimmering
waves ripping, rolling, dissolving
nature coming undone
what you throw in goes back
into the oblivion of that mysterious Pacific
It's moments like these that I live for
I second that Bravo !
Great work, Marian ! Do you work as an editor by any chance?
And thanks to Ash for having been moved to put fingers to keys, whereby he quarried that over-weighty, first-draft lump that was worth chipping away (I mean pruning, but am already getting my metaphors too mixed)
Thank you (Ash), thank you (others).
Yes (Ianb), I worked as an editor for many years but that was the effect, not the cause, of my pruning tendencies.
Speaking of mixed metaphors, I mixed a really bad one the other day when someone asked me if I would consider adopting a child. I said I had no plans to adopt, but "if a child fell into my lap, I would rise to the occasion." (Ouch!)
That's what Hugh said when someone asked him about strippers.
Paint strippers, I trust. :-)
Actually, mine was a rather sick pedophile joke, better left unrecalled, obviously.