Don’t get me started on this week – it’s been an emotional mare I’d rather shoot than ride again. I’ve been ripped apart remembering the sheer hell I endured back in Hout Bay and if you want tales of evil bureaucracy that is our court system, I fear I’ll have a nervous breakdown in frustration from telling it. Suffice to say these past 4 days have sucked bile from the collective 3rd world’s cess pits and I’m ever so vaguely unimpressed. But. I’ll get through, get on, get by. For now, though, the only treatment is tears – and trust me, I’m crying. If the universe gets washed away in a tsunami of saltwater, I’m sorry: blame lies, loss and lucidity.

As I crawl off in the general direction of some deep, dark hole to lick my wounds, here’s an old Write Club prompt to sum up the sum total of how sick my ill feelings are feeling:

*

The sun sets. So. Sky fades through shades of blue til everything is washed a peaceful black. Still. Only disturbed by the crick-crick-crick of crickets, tuning up for the evening orchestra. The odd dog yowling for the moon. My favourite time, the moment before the first stars prick through the velvet and the pitch recedes a little. Don’t get me wrong, I love the stars with their glittering good humour. Like Christians at Christmas – bright and full of promise for something the rest of us find mildly predictable, mostly ridiculous. But there is just something, something grand and entirely… magical …about that brief second of total darkness. The whole world hangs in pregnant pause, when absolutely anything is possible. Like the moment you fall in love: seconds before the person was only someone, an average John No-Real-Body. Wave of invisible wand, abracadabra! and suddenly he’s metamorphosized into Prince Charming, The One and Only – and life together stretches out before you, happily-ever-f*cking-after. Like the moment you slip into dream and know, just for a instant, you’re dreaming… when you could choose to be anyone, capable of anything. Then it’s gone…

The moments that come after, those growing, gleaming pin-pricks letting more light through the bleak atmosphere, they spoil everything. All that beautiful impossible promise, smoke and mirrors, grand scale illusion of pure perfection, potential aching to be filled. Gravity pulls down, stars gibber, burning the sky like a bruise as morning fades the black. Long rays of sun rob the dreaming’s magic, skewer angry eyes blinking, half blind and hungover. You can f*cking keep it – sonskyn and rose. Gimmick and greed. Rise without me Osiris, leave me waltzing the wide cathedrals of night, dressed in dream and endless promise. Don’t. wake. me. up. yet…

leave me dreaming...

                                   Image by the amazingly talented and entirely bewitching Cameron Gray. Visit his website Parable Visions.