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Life is but a DREAM
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Imagine Yourself in a quiet place......
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Delicate moment.....diamond vision, winter garden spring. luscious scream, watch her sing, the mist of a cool white dream....drive........like black whispers, always smooth, the blue ship beneath me swings, read my tongue....on and on, life to me she brings...drive.....drive my thousand aching road......drive........hungery fortune, hardened fleece, infant, floating wings... picture liquid, framed in clean, camera shuttered sleep..............drive..... potent distance, garter blessing, cradle, bundle, fears......muddy sparkle, fractured colors, hymn of un-altered things, drive, drive my thousand aching road, drive.
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We are the hollow men, we are the stuffed men, leaning together, headpiece filled with straw, alas! our dried voices, when we whisper together, are quiet and meaningless, as wind in dry grass, or rats feet over broken glass. In our dry cellar, shape without form, shade without color, paralized force, gesture without motion, those who have crossed with direct eyes to deaths other kingdom remember us....if at all.....not as lost violent souls, but only as the hollow
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I don't see because I have eyes.....I have eyes because I can see.
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The fall of Dr. Malquist
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The notes of the botanist seemed like a language forged by an alien race, loose, cryptic and scrawled across the page in furious type. Little or no attention was paid to the lines so meticulously printed there by the note pads manufacturers, yet, the information so violently inked had been poured over in scientific detail by Dr. Malquist. High atop the doctor's high rise apartment, an ample view of the city's foliage could be examined and logged by his trained eyes. The geometric patchwork of tree tops, hedges and bushes seemed like a book waiting to be read by the good doctor. The various shades of organic color planted in the parks, neighborhoods and businesses, peeked his professional interest. More importantly, it touched a nerve deep inside him, a feeling of intuition, unknown to Dr. Malquist before. This latest explosion of spring's creative splendor, borrowed into his brain, like an invading mental tapeworm, draining the energy needed to continue his other academic activities.The evening was a prolific one. Two pads of chlorophyl soaked engravings had been completed on the legal sized note pads, taken from the University storage room by the doctor. He still did not feel satisfied. The random patterns of green were not what they seemed. Not random at all. True, they were carefully planted by men bent on wrangling nature in the service of beautifing the ugliness of sharp cornered edifices, but overall, from where the doctor viewed them, the patterns tell tale signals were a disturbing cry to him unknowingly made by these controllers of foliage..........or possibly by the plants themselves.Spring had come and gone, like it had so many times before. Summer too was no less predictable. Predictable too was the doctor's observations. Night after night Dr. Malquist created his notes from his apartmant railing. Somehow he felt that all his training was now a burden to his understanding of the unified organic call. Sipping his brandy and retiring to his bed, he tossed and turned with a nagging unformed preception of the encoded message in the plant's leafy encryptions.Fall had come at last to the city. Sporadic was the call to winter. Leaves had fallen from some of the trees and hedges but not to all. The evening light fell softly on the leaves that had not sucombed, and the doctor took careful notice. It was then, in the fading light that the simplicity of it struck so hard, a shudder violently shook the doctor's senseses. The force jarred his muscles and the railing away from there moorings. So clear was the message written in the clinging leaves, the doctor dropped his brandy snifter over the edge. In an instant the good doctor grabbed for the already earth bound glass and so too was the doctor equally bound for the same gravity ruled fate. Both came crashing fifteen floors to the nurturing, root loving, ground like destiny bound meteorites.A cool wind blew the rustling leaves in a swirl over Dr. Malquist's crumbled frame.Above in the softly bending branches for the darkened eyes of the doctor read.............Goodbye doctor Malquist........Goodbye.
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