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Tuesday, April 5, 2011

E is for EXISTENCE sighs THE TURQUOISE WOMAN


You two-leggeds ...

Always you need some challenge.

Today's for some of you it is what E evokes in you.

It evokes in me the word EXISTENCE.

Nothing makes you more aware of the fragility

of existence than a song unfinished.

Here is a secret :

We are all songs unfinished.

We start with names. But what illusions are names.

Some call me Turquoise Woman.

Others call me Gaia. I call all of you temporary ...

Some I call cherished.

Others of you are but a fleeting rash upon my surface.

Irritating, viral, and in the end, self-destructive.

Sadly, your race is like a tick that will gorge itself until it bursts.

Bemused, I watch you scurry along my skin, moaning you are bringing an end to me.

I would laugh if it were not so pathetic.

You are merely bringing an end to yourselves.

I count the moments. You make my scalp itch.

You think you know what life is. Sad. Do you know what life is?

A firefly's flicker in the night,

the breath of a buffalo in winter,

a cloud shadow that races across the green grass to lose itself in the blood-red of the sunset.

Do not try to understand me.

I look, not only down upon you,

but out across the vast glittering sea of eternal night.

The colors of my thoughts are the Northern Lights

and the reach of them is from horizon to horizon and unto the vastness of the stars.

The electro-magnetic field of my body gave birth to my consciousness

long before there were human hands to chisel stone into mute, blind idols

or to brush your world in paint on cave walls.

Your only true contribution to me was your language.

Before you crafted words into being, my consciousness was unfocused.

I listened with wonder as you spoke to one another,

slowly piecing the concept of language together in my thoughts.

Through the prism of your languages, my awareness crystalized.

I became aware.

Now, I know a haunted melancholy. Like a windmill's blades, my thoughts dip into my memories.

In misty after-images, I see your fleeting lives walking soft like prayers across my green fields only to fade into the inflamed oblivion of the sunset.

My son, Elu, will survive.

Hibbs, the bear with two shadows, I have spirited safely away into a sister dimension.

But Samuel, my sad-eyed, adopted son, will soon die I think.

Not at the hands of his life-long enemy, DayStar. But by the two-edged sword of his love for his wife, Meilori.

And that trickster scamp, Victor Standish, he, too, will die. I will miss him, for he, also, will be "consumed" by his love for the unnatural creature called Alice.

You are wondering why I am talking to you?

You are close to my heart as well, for all of you craft with words.

So I have come to say seven words to you :

"Live well. Soon I will miss you." ***


19 comments:

  1. Beautiful artwork and beautiful writing.

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  2. Thank you, Charmaine. That means a lot after a long day at work and still facing on call all night. Have a great week, Roland

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  3. Thank you, Thank you so much Roland. Gosh, you're the best!

    I sent you an email so check it out. :D

    Thanks again.

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  4. Well said and very beautiful.

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  5. Awww this post makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! I love being an unfinished song!

    Take care
    x

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  6. I love the rhythm of these posts. They make me think of a Lakota ceremony or festival I went to a long time ago and they had this storyteller. He gave me this deep, unsettled, yet somehow connected feeling. I got that reading your work here.

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  7. Loved this--so many good bits! I like the analogy of being songs unfinished... and really liked the line--
    "Through the prism of your languages, my awareness crystalized."
    (=

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  8. You're welcome, T.D. I still haven't received your email as of yet.

    Siv :
    I'm glad you liked my entry.

    You take care, too, Kitty. Sometimes I feel like a heavy metal song with most of the metal falling on my aching head!

    Melissa :
    That's high praise to be compared to a Lakota storyteller. They are true artists. What skill I have comes from listening to my own mother's lessons and stories.

    Jo :
    I like to think there is a silent poetry to our days if we but take the time to listen. Thanks for liking my language prism line. Have a great day, Roland

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  9. Hi Roland, I tried many times to email you at the address on your profile page but it doesn't work.

    Did you change it?

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  10. Hi, T.D. my address is rxena77@yahoo.com. Hope this helps.

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  11. Beautiful post, but I have to say that you freak me out, Roland, by posting your letter a day early. You make me think I've fallen behind ;)

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  12. You writing is really peculiar, but in an evocative way that I can't resist.

    Thanks for the giveaway you're planning, I hope I win.

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  13. Love the voice in this.... SO strong and profound. Like the sands of time.

    I love that we are all unfinished songs.

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  14. Hi Roland .. loved this - the words, the descriptions and e is for existence isn't it .. thanks Hilary

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  15. Interesting how she can be so disdainful and compassionate and devastating all at the same time!

    Well done!

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  16. Sorry, Wendy :
    I did my letter on Sunday, the day off for everyone. So I am like a badly dubbed Japanese film, my words are ahead of everyone else's actions! LOL.

    Myne : I wish you luck in my giveaway, too. We fantasy writers have peculiar muses. Glad you like my prose despite the Twilight Zone aspect of it!

    Michael : I like to think that while the world sometimes picks a melody we rather not hear, we can choose which lyrics go with it!

    Hilary : I'm happy my words hit a chord with you. Have a great rest of week, Roland

    WordsCrafter : The Turquoise Woman, after all, is Mother Nature, who is so complex in her moods, loving, savage, nuturing, battering. As Hibbs is known to say, "One should always respect her, for often she has none for you."

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  17. "...you make my scalp itch." I once used that line during a blind date.

    Naw, but the thought is worth a giggle:)

    Well done as always...

    EL

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  18. Thanks, Elliot :
    I tell people my last blind date told me, "Roland, now I know why they call it a blind date. I wish I were blind!"

    Like you, it never happened, but it's worth a chuckle. Have a great rest of week, Roland

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  19. Love the artwork! Also, great writing. It has such a fluid, rhythmic quality!

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