Cracks in the Darkness
By Desert Wind
10.05.02
It was almost dawn by now. They awoke cautiously from a blind fuck. She
lifted off him and her heart shaped face dripped with an ounce of tear.
Salty was the taste and this was definitely no dog.
Nobody really knows how cold the desert floor really is...you see it as
a puzzle piece cracked form and you can feel the dust gather between your
toes and other spaces. But you never really know how cold the desert floor
really is.
**** He had emerged
He had emerged earlier from the Brimstone of Fire Sermon delivered in
a five-sided room. He entered through the Black door and exited thorough
the White. They stripped his body dry and anointed him with sacrament.
Captain Morgan and company danced bare in the darkness while the slithering
god of creation and destruction declared "I am a Giant Penis."
and the congregation responded: "You are a Giant Penis." Like
an echo of voices though a sane mans madhouse; the voices did resonate...
resonate...
Resonation was the word of the eve. Meeting was established among dancing
and thumping spirits worshiping the blessed Buddha; hallowed be thy name
and green be thy color. He coolly glanced across the playing field and
adjusted his mothers scarf. At the very same moment but not at the same
time, she coolly glanced across the playing field and adjusted her mother's
scarf. Their eyes met with the embarrassment of nations. And quickly turned
away. And quickly turned away.
He left; there was no place for nonsense such as this. So he walked and
sojourned through the cracks in the darkness with the 3rd voice ringing
in his cortex of thought and memory. Tortured be thy name. He continued
this ridicule until acquiring upon another safe place along the road.
If you could consider what is safe. Here, the fairies were swarming like
ever before and he achieved Lotus and waited. This was one of his primary
skills. Waiting. For if a man knows how to wait. Then a man knows the
path to victory. For most know how to fight. This is not as difficult
as it seems. You lay down your life and strike and leave success to faith
and destiny. The true warrior knows when to fight and when to wait. This
takes the results of battle away from the demons that be named Faith and
Destiny and into other hands.
So he waited cross-legged. Nations of incadesants passed in and out of
his sphere in the moments that he sat. This thought and that down and
this up and that thought. Inside out altogether. The final destination
was yet uncertain. For the state of uncertainty is real and this may be
the only thing that is certain. What monk is there that stood on top of
his situation? NO! Its more like a fish finally peeking his head out of
the water only to be assaulted by currents of thought leading to places
both high and deep.
In this cyclone of an eve, the swarms we circling and levy was leaking.
She appeared again. Again. This time. This time. She was the only that
existed. The other forms were mercy haunts of those that once were. She
is all that is corporeal.
He asked her for a light. She had none. She asked him for a cigarette.
He gave her one. Each bolted into opposite directions to kindle their
flame without embarrassment. They rejoined in the center and smoked into
silence. Her eyes were sapphires and her scarf was blue. What is there
to say?
He started walking. South. She followed. Through the moonscape of the
barren land. Devoid of life as we understand. Silence is the word of the
eve. They soon reached the center. The center of what? Electricity shot
in seven directions. The generator of the silence. The source of that
is where they stood. It begged to be touched, to be grasped and twisted
and plodded and pulled. He could only love her. No more. He grasped onto
the current and let it evaporate into his veins. Ten-thousand memories
awoke and faded in the time it takes for a crow to 'cah.'
...The time was Ancient India. Legends of Love and War. Flowing white
robes and vibrating crimson scarves crafted by silk. Elephants and Tigers.
An invitation to the banquet...
...The time was Medieval Europe. Castles that reach into the sky. Soft
hands and softer kisses. A plot brewing in the Tower...
He released from the current with sigh of a sigh and looked at her one
more time. Or maybe he did not look. The pains of memory still twinged
through his body. And the face in front of him was beginning to look more
familiar. They exited the center and began to walk due East in between
the cracks in the darkness...
