Power house creatives contest. I came from there once (a temporary illusion in the making)

This is my entry for the power house creatives contest

I grew up there, and it was all to me, but as time passed I became unsettled about how things were. Something was not right; and I came to know it.

But at the start there was no differentiation between me and all I was surrounded by. I was there and I was coming from it.

I was the wind that screamed to be known.

I was the cool lake of surrender.

I was something else.

And I came from there: The dream in the making… The silence of the angels…The black crow’s eggs blown…the hurt of pain…I came from there to be known.

I was this and more in all the grocery nights of wishing.

I was the rebel and didn’t know it.

I was the saint and the sinner.

I was the wish in the wishing well.

I was the falling.

Half way down in this falling I was looking hard for the notes from the underground of where I was to save me or something; but as I fell I began saying: please don’t tell me to look harder, for I have looked all I am to be found…

Oh, look at me here falling…

I came from there you know.

But now I’m free.

And falling…

But, I can fly.

Soon I must spread my wings and fly… But I grew up there where my wings were clipped, and no falling was allowed…

So how can I fly now?

My spreading heart was giving me a warning to get on with it or die soon.

Sinking into the reckless beyond, I became all that I found there.

And that’s how I sank into the sea one day and came up all that I could gain, and grew a horn. Yes, I came from there…

I was small and huge and snatching grace through my fingers.

I was the growing in the next movement.

I was the next moment.

I was all the death I could know.

Over and above the purchase price of this and nearing completion I began scratching below my elbow and found nirvana and became alert; but officially I was suspended from clipping my wings until all was well.

So I sold my horn over and over again in support of this, as a good soldier should, until I couldn’t sell it anymore and had to call myself Johnny something or other to get by.

And that’s when I knew I was being fooled.

A loose leaf, blown on a tree not that far away, became dissipated as it fell to the ground into the dissolution that was going on. And as it did so, I crept ever upward with every groan until I knew my heart by rosary beads every step of the way.

A club soda later in this knowing and over the edge but hanging on by my fingernails, I knew where I was coming from was nowhere I wanted to be without thinking about how I could leave it.

And so, shivering in my slavery I paced the floor and sang the Judas song while starving at the wall. And as I trod every mile of this in my god flopping socks hanging from my feet, I came to a place that had booze for sale, and dancing girls dancing.

Honey, I’m judgement day, she said in a French accent, in a bar close to midnight that I entered, and found her there talking to my wall.

She was holding a secret diary called: The Elements, but as soon as she saw I was looking at it she put it in her bag, and then turned back to me fully and said something else that sounded like: “What dream are you coming from?”

I don’t know, but maybe this was all something under the bed that I’d fallen into that was rapidly turning into an embarrassing moment so that I just had to utter: the snake that eats itself.

“Nice,” she said, and turned away from me in dismissal.

You can’t advance upon the unknown until you are sure it will receive you I heard as I was dying. Neither can you go backwards.

I guess I was just in the falling, somewhere I’d been many times, in the intransigence of the moment; and I wasn’t asking for anything more than what I was feeling…

Well, that’s my story anyway…

Yes, anyway, to cut a long story short: there I was riding home after midnight, and quite drunk, naturally, when out of the bushes jumped: she of the secret diary and screaming: you ain’t paid me yet.

So I pulled out my horn and gave her my secret tune and said: sister, do you have no remorse?

Fuck that she said, and banged me on the head with her purse that was covered in lipstick.

I was suddenly feeling put upon, and all my bulldozers left at home. So, reaching for the top tunes and trying not to feel moody I grew my horn an inch longer in spades and pressed it from my slavery.

“Come here” she said, “I came from there once, a good while ago, and now I would go back there again.”

I was wondering what the difference was between me and a club soda when she squeezed me dry and crushed me into the corner of her thinking. And then she smiled at me.

I was feeling that I just had to up the stakes in this temporary illusion soon or I would turn blue.

I was rainbows at the dust site.

I was somewhere else.

I was all the love I could get.

But I was trying to perceive something more and felt that I wouldn’t know it until I got there…

And so, moving into the next moment coming from the night I held up my torch of understanding to light my way before me and said: I too came from there once…

And then the twists and turns of eternity began blowing me away in the arms of my French flavoured honey until there was nothing left to say.

Images from Pixabay