Monday, March 5, 2018

Speaking Into Infinity



My grandmother refused to speak with me after she died. I was warned about that, of course. He told me to expect silence after they have passed on. "I wanted to tell her one last thing," I said to him, to which he only smiled and took my hand in his.
"It's not possible," he said. "The dead become deaf to this world and only hear the Winds. Your prayers, pleas, promises, all of that falls short." I wanted to believe him. I wanted to show him and everyone else that I was okay, that I could move forward with no regrets. I saw others and how they handled their losses - screaming, crying, wondering, thanking. They were different to me  - apples to apples, dust to dust. He told me that their eyes become golden when they reach whatever they reach.
"Why tell me this?" I asked him. "Why do you know what the rest of the planet does not?"
"You," he replied, "wanted to know the truth." I suppose I should fault my damn curiosity for this. I see my grandmother, in her whitest of white, seated at a table in the middle of a vast something (can't place it, I refuse to lie) as she watches the clouds drift by. Her golden eyes see everything before her and nothing behind. No flesh wrapped worries of paying bills, getting to work on time, enjoying records with the person you love, feeling heartbroken when the person you want doesn't want you back. She shed all of that when she died.
"And who," I asked my friend as we sipped on our Oolong tea, "are you?"
"I am nothing, everything, listening for a single drop of water to fall in an ocean. I am within you and outside. I am here." I took another sip of my tea, knowing that my friend was more than what he showed me. I noticed his delicate white skin that held a dull glow. He told his name, once. I wanted to forget it. He called himself a Poet. I wanted him to love me for I knew that I would never survive the ordeal. He came here to find me. I know that. He saw my grandmother and she said nothing about me. He wanted to tell me that the Cycle is real (feel this and guide me through it). He loved me before I was born. I wanted to laugh until I saw his eyes shift. Can I believe in gods now, I wondered. Will he let me?

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