All he could see were tall, tall trees -- swaying in an eerie sort of windy circumstance. That made his head go round.
Go round the trees though he stood still, his arrows restless to, to, to go. Go after a certain, unsettling, radiant heat-source. A certain heartbeat, as he thought might be it. At one tree, a spot in its trunk flattened as by a clever hand, and colourful. And he could see strange faces and hear unknown voices and noise there on that carved flatness. Say -- GO!
Which could neither see nor hear. Him! Nor them! Selves!
Yet all that was so long ago one wondered if one wasn't moving in forbidden spirals and into rogue Black(er) Holes, thru which 1 (one) might yet crack int O and out O the big and bigger egg's (s)hell. The universe's. The one verse! And see more than was meant to be seen in all those pixels. And, so, lose all hope(fulness).
Yet all that was so long ago one wondered if one wasn't moving in forbidden spirals and into rogue Black(er) Holes, thru which 1 (one) might yet crack int O and out O the big and bigger egg's (s)hell. The universe's. The one verse! And see more than was meant to be seen in all those pixels. And, so, lose all hope(fulness).
Then, in slow suddenness, he was on his way home, at last. Over theeeeere, in the mist. Oba! Oba! Beyond the hump-free. Which he'd known for so brief a moment one wondered where home could really be, if it could. Really was. Still. Past all the distance runners, and all that! Nay, all distance! Way, way past Time. As if all of a sudden, again! As if all of Time, again, was past. Past that very same Cygnus, alas, and toward that fabulous, some-time dimming, light he'd had sometin to say about when he couldn't remember now!
And he was not at all happy. Happy at the thought. At all at the thought he might not remember the strange words he'd heard. From them strange strangers he might not remember, and who might never ever recall talking to him as, and, they had no clue what language(s) he spoke either, anyways.
And remember whom to tell, ev'n. Things he'd seen them undo. Where seeing defies all belief, and belief defies all seeing, and undoing comes before all doing. And why. Things he thinks he'd seen he himself see.
And remember whom to tell, ev'n. Things he'd seen them undo. Where seeing defies all belief, and belief defies all seeing, and undoing comes before all doing. And why. Things he thinks he'd seen he himself see.
Remember for all those uh waiting in despair and true, true sadness. Waiting for his fabled return, which might never happen. Because it happened, if it happened, already; before he was born, too.
All those waiting who might be long, long, long ago gone, in any case, and by all reckoning, before the waiting, of all waiting, could begin.
Gone after all these 10 centuries no one has yet heard of. Nay, millennia. Yes, millennia of millennia. Sure, before anyone's time that anyone knows or remembers. Of his sojourn on the other, the other, side of of of -- the ether -- of Time!
All those waiting who might be long, long, long ago gone, in any case, and by all reckoning, before the waiting, of all waiting, could begin.
Gone after all these 10 centuries no one has yet heard of. Nay, millennia. Yes, millennia of millennia. Sure, before anyone's time that anyone knows or remembers. Of his sojourn on the other, the other, side of of of -- the ether -- of Time!
And he wouldn't let his arrows KO!
The moral of the story awaits its ending.
[Nairobi: Apr 23, 2010 - Oct 20, 2015]
