Conundrum

I sat on an immense boulder, while ancient ferns and rotting tree trunks spread out beneath my feet. Towering cliffs rose above me, ancient giants waiting for their questions to be answered. I had come there to explore the seascape, only to find myself trapped in a seemingly endless maze of meandering trails, a labyrinthine convolution that would not be soon explicated. 

My way was lit only by fireflies. These had been my constant companions throughout the journey. I began to contemplate the inner tempest I had endured. The knot in my throat screamed for understanding, but there would be none today. Life was meant for the knot and the knot for life. Many have trodden this path and have never been heard from again. But, they didn’t have fireflies for companions.

Suddenly, I was startled by the sound of Sol rising in the sky. He was angry with Luna and was waging war on Her. As I sat there, a fierce battle raged on before my eyes. Much to my dismay, Sol was victorious this time. Maybe tomorrow it would be different.

After Sol’s victory, the fireflies retreated to the surrounding hills. Some semblance of normality had returned to the primeval forest. I no longer needed a guide because the lichen on the dead, decaying trees glowed emerald green.

Realizing the futility of normality, I decided to lie down among the lush foliage and pass from this world.

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Time Of The Ibis

In the rounding years of one’s life, there are times when light begins to dim, the dusk of being, if you will. I once had such a life, in the distant future or distant past, I know not. It was a moment, a glimpse into something better than this moment. It was a utopian dream, perhaps, but I tend to think it was a spiraling.

What? You’re not familiar with the term, “spiraling”? Well, let me tell you, it is a whirling beat of a drum, a dance. It is a flourishing moment, awash with sorrow that cannot be conceived. It is the memory of a deep place, but not too deep. There are such places; we simply have never heard them.

But, I digress. Back to the gloaming. This is the moment when Being is less interested in the light; it is too blinding and it blisters the skin. Shadows grow strong and wise. There is weeping and gnashing of teeth. It is the time of of the Ibis.

This is my favorite moment.

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