It is a hundred years ago today and you're smiling at me like there is nothing but this moment. And maybe there is nothing else. All the memories could be dreams, and the dreams could be memories waiting to happen. You're still smiling at me and the sun is warm on my skin. I look up at the clear blue sky and I see only stars as the dream comes on...
Floating on my back in the inky expanse of sea. The constellations reflected in my eyes are Coyote and Father Hare -- sly wisdom and fear. There are horses swimming towards me out of the darkness, their hooves churning the water in a frothy roar. Horses never tire. I lie there with the world on my back and the stars falling into my eyes and I hear the water ceaselessly churning...
Your voice brings the sun back on my skin. Birdsong replaces roaring waters and we're back in this moment again. This moment that never ends. Voices are a strange thing. The memory of a voice doesn't sound like anything, and the dream of a touch feels only like emptiness.
If you want this moment from me, you're going to have to take it. The memory will be what you pay for it. A poor currency, memories. I'm rich with what I can't spend, and though this moment never ends it's always changing. Changing hands, changing scenes, the cost waxing and waning so that we must always be on the alert, never slipping into dreams. That's what this costs, this sun and this smile, I paid for it with a dream of horses.
2 comments:
This one is really making me think...I realize why I was confused. I wasn't sure of Memories, Dreams, and Moments which one was the most important, but I think that what you are saying, that there is always a trade off. Our dreams can take us away from our moments, and memories are not a worthy replacement for our moments...yet where would we be without our dreams and memories? My mind is still going around in circles. My favorite line is "The memory of a voice doesn't sound like anything". There is something so melancholy about this writing, like seeing the good in all three but dismissing each by recognizing their limitations. Somehow we have to achieve a perfect balance or one of our experiences suffers. At least, that is how I interprete it.
This is really pretty. I don't wish to dig deeper into it's meaning for it's lovlieness is completely satisfying.
The only exception is the sadness I feel when I read, ... the dream of a touch feels only like emptiness.
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