"Would I give eternity up for you?
Feel me. Hear my eyes when they fall on you.”

She saw forever with eyes that were endless; their depths could not be acknowledged. Pain was the result of a quick gaze into the knowledge and infinity. She woke to thunder in the morning. Cozy, breathtaking, so much pleasure in the earth's beat. Her eyes were that of a flowers vein. Her hair and skin were envisions of a faerie's glance within enclosed flowers, asleep beneath the moon.

She swam in the rain, cried her own sorrows and begged to feel again. She despised the thought that rest had forgotten her. The flesh taking the job of living she once had. She wanted to be with them! She wanted to play, and love! No, not that.

Love. Oh, how wonderful it had sounded! How truly sick she was hearing of it, remembering it. Competence was clouded by mist at such reminiscing. She did not want the world to know her. They would not see her for what she was. They would get lost in her eyes and forget her. Her language so foreign, they would not hear her voice that sang with the whales.

The solemn wail of one of the most shrilling sounds that strikes the very essence of the soul. The fabric of life ripped, cold, enlightened. The music that reminds the audience of depth, darkness, beauty, mystery and death. It is the embodiment of the stars in sound; a melodious pierce.

An azure fluttering of feathers; shrieking and screeching is shame. Disappointment crying from the perfect golden bars, shivering with an echo of sorrow. A chattering clap of a caged Quetzal bird chiming his own opinion. This was the end, the finale of an explosion of brilliant fireworks. A life bursting free from one instant, growing more beautiful, more colourful, and more amazing! Then slowly wilting as the flowers do. Drooping, still colourful, until the last dried brown crisp is crushed and the ashes spread, far more distant than the body has ever gone.

Time is a circle looping all events together. Split second decisions that end or begin a life time. Or never begin or end anything. Existence is a human conception. Perhaps the dust is existence, the spark was always there. Consciousness is only something not understood when conscious, but fully explained otherwise. Limits do not exist. Depth is perception only. Perception is not a true word, but perceptions are. The caged woman, the caged bird, they knew this. And so would they, if they saw her eyes, the perception-less, timeless, unconscious, eyes!

Colour exists, but not to those who look with eyes. The words are spoken, but no one will hear with their ears. Mind over matter, but it didn’t matter now. She was fooled, and once chose matter over mind. Not forever, but still forever. It was a trap for a mouse, and a mouse is matter. And he was matter, and conscious. The excuses were traditional; the same fairy-tale, but with a strange twist. A painful sprain, the sharp reality flung in their faces after the fairy-tale happiness. And all of it drawn back into love. Heart -wrenching love, but does she regret it? Would she have answered the question differently if she had known....?

“I love you. Would you give up eternity for me?”

Curse those words! But she did, and he did. She said yes, but she was wrong, he was wrong, they were all wrong! Except for the feathers, one who is trapped knows everything. She understood this, now. His shrieking, a warning she did not listen to. He was caged behind golden bars, a luxury! Prison is the predictable word most often used. But this was torture. Freedom should not be fooled with, once it is given and misused, there is no taking it back.

“Yes.”

Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! The Shakespearean way of it all! He couldn’t have written her life better. Happiness? Sure, with him, and she was to be with him for eternity. Be with his eyes that never changed with age. Be with those arms that held her close, and his lips that kissed her. Not separated by a wall of dirt, consciousness, and false dreams.

All the nightmares in the world she knew of. Her eyes knew of. Her voice wailed them, in the sea, in the trees, in her eyes. Past all of the darkness...but they can’t get past the darkness. He couldn’t get past the darkness. He was stuck in darkness and so was she. And so were the feathers.

Happy times…no curse, no blessing, no love. No, there must be love, those were the happy times. Curse the stars, for they are immortal. Bless the stars, for they are immortal. Love him. Hate them. Damn loop holes! The stars aren’t meant to be governmental, but they are meant to be Shakespearean.

She was blind, with her all-knowing eyes; she was blind to the only thing she should have paid attention to.

Image: Dream. An Angel of Immortal Darkness, staring with emerald ignorance. A dance with his arms, the same that owned the hands that covered her eyes. Colours fly freely above them, whistling music of bliss. Smiles and laughter, kisses and adventure forever... perfection. So blind.

Image: Nightmare. Demons of Immortal Darkness, confined by their hearts. Her love, an Angel of Whiteness, stained by her and her by him. A wise, confined, spirit whispering, “No, no, no,” while feathers wither, crumble, crush...perpetually dust.

Image: Endless. An Angel and Demon of Eternal Nothingness. One conscious beneath the world, and the other…dead. So she screams with her all-knowing eyes, dead flesh but conscious mind. A Quetzal bird in her arms. An old man and an ageless woman separated by Earth. She did not give up immortality, but life. A stone above her, written words are not enough... they need to see her eyes.

Image: Sorrow. A cramped cage holding nothing but a shell of existence, isolated forever from the folded bones that enclose a wise monster-bird, not the dancing arms. And hollowed eyes cry of separation and deception. All trapped in perfect golden boxes.

10/12/2005

Author's Note: I have a fear that when I die my soul will be trapped in my body, and I would -hate- to be trapped in a coffin. She is only trapped because she tried to give up immortality for someone she loved, so die with him, for him, but once you're immortal you can't die. Flesh can die, and rot, but the spirit is immortal. Her spirit animal, the bird, knew this because it was trapped, but she wouldn't listen. And since she does not truly die, she can't be with the man she loved, who went where spirits normally go, I guess.

Posted on 10/13/2005
Copyright © 2024 Kim Bennett