The Linnet's Wings :Take All My Loves, My Love - Page 101

The Linnet´s Wings O nce I had infinite capacity. I could elongate a moment or freeze a day. I sang bluebells and waterfalls. I saw the colours that surround people. I was the spectre in the crowd. I flew my magic carpet to the surface of the sun. There was a time we walked together and I could touch your hand and hear your voice. I knew your scent. You showed me cosmic planes within, and hidden pearls in opal fires, the laser at the ruby's heart. Your currents set me free. The universe takes little notice of a passing body. In its vastness, we appear and disappear and that is all. In three dimensions, dawn and day and dark, you lose people. We learn the nature of shadow, and all are diminished. When you slipped from the edge of the world, I was afraid. Sometimes in the dark I would wake in a pillow of tears, eyes stuck fast. Stark and bright, noon casts no shadows. Bluebells are silent. Waterfalls tilt towards vesper. My magic carpet slices superficially through a world where nobody believes in magic carpets any more. I am thread-thin, no more than a sliver, a cross-section through walls, rooms, flesh. You pay no heed. You do not mind me. Last night I dreamt we stood on the edge of darkness at the end of time and you led me to a place with no ceiling where we could watch the last stars go out together. You held my hand so I wouldn't be afraid. But I was always afraid. Minds do not have cross-sections. You can never see into them. They are only a lifetime thick. Ask the physicists. Ask the psychologists. Perfume is thicker molecules than a mind. It exists in darkness. Memory is a salvo that can wound mortally. When the last star was gone there was light of our own making; white lightnings of thought streaking across the void. Whispers in the dream-time. Echoes dying. I cannot make you hear me now. Your silence is a total deprivation. You might think because I am no longer multi-dimensional, that I cannot truly suffer. Not mine the tesseract, not mine the cross. Not even the net of the cube is mine. I am two lines that intersect this thin graphite spread, drawn on, I know not by what hand. I dream and wake in fear, my tissue torn. I dare not dream of dreaming. Mind and body are a strange symbiosis. There is no knowing the one and no ignoring the other. The body enshrouds the mind in rags of matter. Yet the mind fears release. There are things that pierce me – the fear of lies and all that lies beyond the point where twilight colours fade. Edges dissolve. In three dimensions you walk in the dark, love in the dark, dream in the dark. You accept loss. The urge is powerful to know everything yet I know nearly nothing. I pass through your hands and leave no trace. Strange the damage hands 101