Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Thou

There was a decorated ensemble encovering the star studded night. Walt walked, two leaves blew from the trees, slowly dancing through the quiet melody of the breeze. A silent symphony, a supertonic cresendo, a magical and musical explosion. Words were heard around him, yet not the words entranced and danced with his ear drums. He heard a quiet roar as if it was raging against the silence of the progressing night.

Distantly off into the horizon, there was a curvature of light, delicately bending across the city's horizon like a wristwatch. Suddenly, out of the stale and drowsy air, those very two leaves, sombre and superb, complimented the scene like a perfect comrade, like a dream.

Be ye my Gods, Walt thought.

Walt glances toward the curve of the planet's perfect caress of Light, curved like time and space, complimenting the shape of the earth. He looks toward the orb of the full moon.

Be ye my Gods, Walt thought.

Slowly, the feet of the few approached their destination. Slowly, the explosion of a street car passed- inebriating Walt with the sound.
Slowly, the feet of the few approached.





A door eternally swings, joyfully inviting, with voices like music beautifully and intrinsicly inviting forever, like a prayer.

Be ye my Gods, Walt thought.

The heart of Manhattan drives streetcar operators through the street of this bar, each crossing the intersections of speech barriers, social classes, and religions. Happily, speeches rise with only a smile. Walt smiles, the roar reverberates, gaining momentum in a snowball affect of joy.

Realism flows through Walt's veins, a miracle, yet a divergent realism from now and every tomorrow hence. An always new realism, a continual miracle;
America.

Be ye my Gods, Walt thought.



The friend I am with is laughing, the arm of my friend hangs idly over my shoulder, beautiful dripping fragments flow like honey into our glasses.
Slowly, the feet of a few approach.
Slowly, the sound of a streetcar explodes, inebriating the air with meaning.
Here, I heard him,

"Be ye my Gods?" Walt spake, chanting like an immortal.



Walking, enfans d'adam, Walt approaches.

Passionately, we speak, words like fingers cling together. All else, even time, is forgotten. Ages and ages hence, one word from each of our lips shall be repeated, reborn, vibrating through our lips, bathing in my ears, and loafing in my soul,

                                      "Lover" I "Together"
As if for an eternity...

One flitting glimpse, caught through an interstice of a crowd, of workmen and drivers, immediately,

Be thou my God?




Walt walks to a booth in a corner. A youth, "I love you." Softly, we whisper, gentler than a leaf. Silently, sitting next to him, fingers like words cling.




We separate, like lovers from one becoming two...

Forever forgotten aside from all, aside from two...

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