Doll (Heaven)
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I was happy
Staring out the window into the Heaven of my own creation,
Walking among the undying fields of flowers
In a land decay and ash did not reach
Alone with myself,
Transversing the corners of my imagination,
Finding hidden waterfalls and undying toads in corners unseen by human eye,
Forming beauty where I willed,
I was at peace
But I grew weary of having nature as my constant companion
So I created vast temples and complexes
Works of stone and earth and metal that were marvelous to behold
But the compounds were silent,
Filled with the tread of a people
Who never knew the breath of life
And so I created companions
Companions I loved as any craftsman would love his master piece
They were neither my servants nor my enemies
But peaceful, joyful, knowledgeable and bright people
All qualities I had found lacking in the world of my youth
And so time passed, if pass it did
While I walked in my undying gardens
And watched the sun rise and set
With a beauty that stole my breath and left the empty space aching
And I found that as I gazed upon my Heaven,
At the plants and animals and people of my perfection, my deepest desire,
Creations that would never feel the sting of death,
The acute loss of something deeply cherished,
Or the embarrassment of a childhood folly-
I grew tired
Of the plants that would never whither and fade,
Of my ignorantly obedient creations,
And of the painful, perfect beauty of those sunsets
(Those same sunsets that were once so precious to me,
Those few moments in the dreary world of my upbringing
Where the pure light of my Heaven would shine down upon me
And show a sliver of what I longed for more than anything in that life-)
As I watched the sunsets of my Heaven,
I was filled with a melancholy that I'd never possessed before
Because those sunsets were no longer yearned for
But merely one small, insignificant portion of the perfection around me.
__________________________________________________________________
…Yes. I was happy.
How could I not be,
Staring out the window into the Heaven of my own creation?
(c) 2011 Trina Rutz
I was happy
Staring out the window into the Heaven of my own creation,
Walking among the undying fields of flowers
In a land decay and ash did not reach
Alone with myself,
Transversing the corners of my imagination,
Finding hidden waterfalls and undying toads in corners unseen by human eye,
Forming beauty where I willed,
I was at peace
But I grew weary of having nature as my constant companion
So I created vast temples and complexes
Works of stone and earth and metal that were marvelous to behold
But the compounds were silent,
Filled with the tread of a people
Who never knew the breath of life
And so I created companions
Companions I loved as any craftsman would love his master piece
They were neither my servants nor my enemies
But peaceful, joyful, knowledgeable and bright people
All qualities I had found lacking in the world of my youth
And so time passed, if pass it did
While I walked in my undying gardens
And watched the sun rise and set
With a beauty that stole my breath and left the empty space aching
And I found that as I gazed upon my Heaven,
At the plants and animals and people of my perfection, my deepest desire,
Creations that would never feel the sting of death,
The acute loss of something deeply cherished,
Or the embarrassment of a childhood folly-
I grew tired
Of the plants that would never whither and fade,
Of my ignorantly obedient creations,
And of the painful, perfect beauty of those sunsets
(Those same sunsets that were once so precious to me,
Those few moments in the dreary world of my upbringing
Where the pure light of my Heaven would shine down upon me
And show a sliver of what I longed for more than anything in that life-)
As I watched the sunsets of my Heaven,
I was filled with a melancholy that I'd never possessed before
Because those sunsets were no longer yearned for
But merely one small, insignificant portion of the perfection around me.
__________________________________________________________________
…Yes. I was happy.
How could I not be,
Staring out the window into the Heaven of my own creation?
(c) 2011 Trina Rutz