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Chart 6 Mercator Projections
| Open Poetry #46 |
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Chart 6 Mercator Projections |
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Cpat Hair
since 2001-06-05
Posts 11793 |
“you’ve flown quite a bit” he said as he poked at the fire filling the room suddenly with the smell of ashes and dust even as the embers glowed brighter then flamed “yes” I answered letting my eyes rest on the map I drew in mind of the routes I had taken “when you fly through the clouds, do you feel confined?” the query even from him I thought unusual but he stirred the embers once again and I felt compelled to know where his thoughts were heading and answered “no” I dropped thoughts of charting paths and continued “I have felt as if I were lost or had entered another realm” “but I have not felt confined” “why is it then” he asked without looking at me as he buried the poker into the ashes and I caught the whiff of oak and sulfur “ people feel confined by death?” “Is it not a lot like you say…a bit of being lost or in another realm?” He paused and turned the poker in hand a dull red glow From the heat of fire and embers he had stirred “We don’t remember” I began “and we cling to that which we know much like a baby clings to a mother’s breast or a man to a wife he knows has lost interest in his eyes or hands” He turned and began to trace in the ashes lines “The map is there, the paths are clear” A soft exhale “ but you deny them just as I have encountered those who deny death and in an end, spend time walking among the shadows neither here nor there” “You are that ghost” M’friend he said softly over his shoulder then poked again to let the room fill with the scent of ash and dust “you will always be” “you have never let go of her and you walk the shadows not quite in her world and not in yours” I raised my eyes from the book of charts But let my finger rest where it was tracing a dotted line That marked the route of caravans in some ancient time “I suppose” I said in a soft whisper then let my eyes fall to where my finger rested and read the name my nail underlined Nitzan Selah neshemah “What truth” I asked to no one “is there in the slow lies of life?” I heard him chuckle softly and say “ Doesn’t truth depend on where you stand?” “Just as when we began, it is after all a matter of perspective As to where the lines are drawn and how the map is shaped” “I suppose” I replied and raised my eyes to watch As he wrote slowly in the ashes of the hearth A compass rose “Lay lines, Meridians, Hurricanes” he said more to himself than me “I wonder at the names they might have had if you had named them” He chuckled softly to himself and turned “Ghosts, Pathways, Flying, Fire and Truths?” he said to me “What do they have in common to you?” “I’ve felt all of them” I replied quietly “When I thought of her.” |
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bel1e Senior Member
since 2006-07-24
Posts 1631 |
~deep, haunting, reflective....and compelling, dear man~ ~wow xoxoxoxox |
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Cpat Hair
since 2001-06-05
Posts 11793 |
thank you Ms Belle... your eyes on the words and such kind replies are truly felt. you've seen them before... but it is nice to see they might still touch. |
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Dark Stranger Member Patricius
since 2001-03-19
Posts 13631West Coast |
wives that have lost interest are such a jagged edge of lonely...they can cut without even touching.....the journey you unravel here has so many icons that are a journey of their own design. kewl Capt..kewl |
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Cpat Hair
since 2001-06-05
Posts 11793 |
Thanks Mr Dark Sir... kind of yo to wade through these scribbles and leave a few words behind.. much appreciated. |
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