in bloom

"some one came knocking at my wee small door;
some one came knocking, i'm sure -sure -sure...
...'come!' said Old Shellover
'ah!' said Creep"

-some one/old shellover
walter de la mare

i hear knocking in the dark or do i?
i hear steps on my path or do i?
i listen, i don't breathe.
is it some one or no one there?
another waking dream,
a feast of sense,
a dream of life,
drifting through
a sea of souls,
a place of possibility,
an ocean of relaxation...
that dream is mine.

stolen by a thief. left by a lonely road. "let go, let go", he says. and i drift, listening, wondering and knowing, everything crashing into waves on the sand. do we travel alone, hearts wrapped in chains? do we lie to ourselves that what we want is real? is it all a vapor, a gas that we have to pass, a place inside we must transcend to really know, to really see what lies beyond the waves, past the edges of night and dawn, in tentative first steps?

in the desert of grass, i found a cool pool of clear water, so sweet, so satiating. i had never known thirst until this moment. standing, i looked to the sun and to the path so low and flowing. "you can all go take a walk..." my words stung behind my eyes and i walked to the path not knowing the destination. so far to go, so far i've come; i can't turn back now.

i can see the canyons from here. so small in the distance as i walk on... what is calling, what is pulling me to these places i can't know but feel so deeply? could it be, no, and i press on, not thinking just moving, just moving waiting for familiar sights and sounds to drop clues but there are none. bits and pieces of moments, like a grainy film always playing in my head, moving me on, down the path, beside a river, always looking for the familiar face, the sign pointing me to things i seek but don't know.

so exhausting to sleep and dream of travel never done. i rise from the corner quickly and dress, ready for another day, dreaming of when i might find what i'm looking for. will i know, will i see, or will i keep walking out of habit tattooed to the soles of my feet? i begin the day, bathed in liquid morning light, muttering words i did not know. "without that cut, i could have..." and it's gone.

dreams inside of fever, fevers inside of dreams. i laid in the corner for so long, a videotape playing over and over, again and again. "such terrible children, such impudent bastard spawn...", i thought as i fell through layers. sharp slivers of pain to guide me, little rivers of tears to cool my sheets. did it ever happen? was it all a nightmare inside a dream? i laid in that corner for so long. the days and nights passed and i forgot to count. the fevers broke and rose, the pain traveled on slow waves, along highways of nerve endings to skin that shivered and shuddered against the light. a wolf howled in the night. the others answered him and sang songs until the fingers of dawn crawled in and silence was brilliant and shining for a tiny moment.

the light shredded the flimsy curtains and sliced my eyes. would it be today? would it be soon? or would i continue walking, never reaching the destination i couldn't know? my feet were bleeding and i fell, screaming. i felt myself falling. so long ago i began this, so deeply i could feel the pull. i sat at the feet of a master who could never know how long i craved, how far i would go to feed needs never filled. always closing in on death, always battling the words that drive thoughts inside the nightmares, inside the dreams but never feeling full, never knowing the job was well done and done well...

i swam up from a puddle and when i made it to my feet, i saw it. a small key was there on the floor where i laid. i picked it up and turned it over and over, wondering which door it would fit, which dream it would open. "back through time... i know you're calling me..." the band played on and the path waited, stretched like a broken, torn ribbon of glass. the key burned in my hand.

a door, a dream, thoughts gone so quickly, were they ever mine? a key burning flesh, a door never opened but i had the key, i could make it my own. on i walked and words banged around in my brain. never silent, never filled, always searching for a clue, a bit of something to tell me the path i walked was real. the sun felt like weight upon my shoulders and sweat stung my eyes. stones bit at the soles of my feet and my step quickened. i had the key. i needed the door. i heard the knocking as i swam through waves of sleep and light. so far, so long i had walked alone, never seeing the others, never knowing how far i'd gone, how far i had to go.  i could hear that damn knocking, i could see a black door. i had the key to open, i had a way to end the travel, to walk no more.... "some one came knocking at my wee small door..." we can live forever in dreams. "i'm sure, -sure, -sure..."