Calla Lilies
Just an open door, and at once I'm surrounded by the faint scent of white Calla lilies, slightly damp-- dew from the droplets formed from the drizzle last eve. As crudely as their position allows, half a dozen stand stoutly to the left of the door beside the garden bushes. They were not without imperfections... but I see them, and by the by I wanted to stare. Perhaps to lock their image to the insides of my eyelids-- as if by some foolish mechanism to imprison this 12-year-long dream I fear I might wake.
Twelve years, I've immigrated from half a world away. Now these years may seem but a passing, languid afternoon too real for creation, too illusionary for life. Who knows how the world has turned while I sat dreaming, and each year but a passing hour? A dream inside a dream? Gosh I've played sibyl, did you know my Dorian Gray? Even Mercutio would laugh, were I to dangle this incorrigible tale by his ear... and yet so much has yet to be dreamt of, and Queen Mab has yet to leave!
What more is to come...? Will it be sobering, will it be tyrannous? For I laugh, and it falls like a droplet in a downpour. It does not matter what it soaks. Nor how it makes me feel. For finally... do you see that it is just water, it is just rain. -laughs-
Twelve years, I've immigrated from half a world away. Now these years may seem but a passing, languid afternoon too real for creation, too illusionary for life. Who knows how the world has turned while I sat dreaming, and each year but a passing hour? A dream inside a dream? Gosh I've played sibyl, did you know my Dorian Gray? Even Mercutio would laugh, were I to dangle this incorrigible tale by his ear... and yet so much has yet to be dreamt of, and Queen Mab has yet to leave!
What more is to come...? Will it be sobering, will it be tyrannous? For I laugh, and it falls like a droplet in a downpour. It does not matter what it soaks. Nor how it makes me feel. For finally... do you see that it is just water, it is just rain. -laughs-