"All is Opaque"

 

A sea of blackness plastered into a  hundred and one hues.

In this din of nothingness they speak to me.

To comprehend this, I begin to assign them names and titles, interlocking gods and stars.

Uranus, the knight.

Mercury, the avenger

Venus, the demon

Mars, the prince

Earth, the scoundrel

Jupiter the demigod

Saturn the queen

Neptune the pawn

Pluto the sage

 

Spooning together in a multifarious landscape, they join in and forge a landscape that has no title, composed of creatures that speak yet make no sounds. Forms without barrier. I look through the branches of  fir and see a wild revelry taking place. In my confusion, I scorn the inside joke-and through the chill of the winds and the folds of my shirtsleeves-I begin to see anew. I gaze, gauge, and move with them. In this bleakest of darkest, illuminated only by conscience-a transformation begins to occur. All maps become impartial. All roads become murky, all paths become dusted, all tracks regain cover. I envision lands that see no barriers. The seas of Denmark move into the shores of Sicily. The chills of the North Sea move and mingle with the landlocked murky majesty of the Ozarks.

The planets, gods and stars gaze upon me, sizing me up. They speak in chorus, immobilizing me. “all is obsolete. All is yet to be complete.”

 

The movement continues. I saw it. The waterfalls of Nigeria, the lands of Innsbruck, the mists of Ireland, the heat of the sagebrush path-yet sailing on the track to nowhere, it was all I could stand.

How now have we learned from our travels?

What brings us to such voyages?

This I will wonder, as I sit in blackness, lingering in this between place, more rag doll then man.

 

Drinking the last remnants of starlight.