Some boy

She brushed a single tear off his cheek. The gem fell, shattering into a puddle and before it flowed into the drain it evaporated without a memory. He only sat there slumped over, a mound of algae growing on him. And when he spoke, his voice was raspy, dust regurgitated, as he moistened his ancient map cracked lips. It was elemental as the silver seed was planted in his limbic system, merely an idea but soon sprouting, blossoming into a full grown sapling. And he chanced a glance, before he realized he shed a single tear. She seem to him an angelic crane, descending from Mount Fiji. And the icicles which clung to her hair were mirrors reflecting the possibilities of the world, swirling into infinite variables. His silence, and her silence stirred inside, and only time stretched what distance they had only exacerbating longing and desire into a finite moment. And so he woke up, his eyes fluttering like from baptism, emerging all wet from the melancholy history of a marching band parading for no apparent reason in a hurricane.

He reached out, but she was always at arms length, which only spurred him.  But he was trying to breath again, and listen again even the drumming in his head, and his fear kept his courage at bay.  And even if the ubiquitous monsters growled at him, hypnotized him into trance, which only led to unending stair chases, and fire escapes, he could only wonder for a different paradigm. If dreams only were dreams what’s the use? He believed that such felicity would eventually come to the righteous, if the world revolved correctly, and if east and west would finally meet if you walked in opposite directions.

But the ice cream trucks would come with the ring a ling, their tunes teasing mannequin saccharine flavors, and he fled to them, until his belly ache. And the world and Brittney would laugh at him, at his blue polo he would wear to sleep, his mom would slip on him every morning even with his bed head. He never dealt with the moments of loss, of silent aloofness as the other children would be playing on the jungle gym, dirt hands on monkey bars, digging holes to China. Even if the faces in the trees, couldn’t console enough. And his God became the only friend, where as he got older, he became a philosopher, a psychologist, a theologian, a sociologist, a cultural critic, a minister , while indulging on cultural goods. But he was only a boy. At times he felt robotic as he performed how he was suppose to, and yet with a full awareness he was not human, in the sense of flesh and blood. And in some ways, he gave up hope in his idealistic pursuit, and dived further into his studies, until these even began to alienate him from others. And he gave his heart to a few lovers, but it was tossed away without much of a thought. And his eagerness, and yet perfectionist personality made him even more obsessive, like a mad scientist longing to find a cure for a terminal illness. And he crossed many mountains, and climbed down many ropes, and at moments he felt that the ropes were about to snap, and he would fall and give up on humanity. He kept on loving people, giving his mind and soul, dedicated himself, even with this thorn in his side, this virus making his blood run black. He kept on being a fool, until he was blending into the elements around him.
He stood up (remembering his own history), shrugging off a hundred rainy days, and even as he uncrossed her hands, he didn’t know for certain, he would choose. She was chosen. And whether she chose back or accepted it he wouldn’t know. She would be a kindred body, spirit, soul, who he could share his life together with. She had her own story, but he didn’t know yet. She was broken, and he wouldn’t be able to heal her, but he could be there. Waiting, being ready for when she was ready divulge whatever calamities in her life. He would wait as they would face the world together as a duo of childlike portions. They would learn what it was to be Adam and Eve again. Where deception, and blame would be replace by truth, acceptance, bravery, love. Patience for the patients, him and her. And such oneness could be only expressed as a trinitarian, as one sacrifices one’s life for someone else. This is alchemy, coal into gold, water into wine, body into bread.
Advertisements
Tagged , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: