8. Through His Eyes
Through His Eyes
There was a black brightness as the sun shone through the closed eyelids. The warmth of it sunk into the skin. It wormed its way into the centre of his body, more intimate that any form of human contact could be.
Lying in the sun, with his eyes closed, he could imagine anything. Anything was possible. Anything was possible and everything was real. The ties of the physical world became transparent in the suns rays and some of them snapped like rubber bands too often used.
Time became non-linear and then ceased to exist at all. The past, present and future became one with the eternal moment of existence. History ran parallel with the distant future and together they danced in the morning light to the music of their laughter. The present, the child of their love, filled the air between them with a soft presence that comforted and killed all thoughts of linear movement.
Lost in this eternal moment the buzzing of the insects and the soft caress of the breeze become the most important things to exist. To have ever existed. They are the last links with the physical existence that traps him on earth. They ear the things he must defeat in order to rise above it all and truly be part of the eternal moment.
A twig snaps and his eyes instantly open. He is once more totally in the physical world with its impure minions and dangerous temptations. He sits up and looks around, trying to find the source of the noise.
The crack comes again and his head snaps round. A kangaroo looks up at him through the railing of his veranda. It looks at him with a knowledge that he finds disturbing. He stands up suddenly and the kangaroo bounds off, back into the bush, leaving him alone again.
He leans on the railing and watches the bush for any sign of the animal. Bees collect nectar from the passion flowers that grow on the vine that grows around the railing. Their simple noise does not disturb him. Rather it sooths him with its monotony.
Abruptly he turns and goes into the house, his morning ritual over for the day. He understands that it is too tempting to spend the day in contemplation of the eternal moment. Soon, when everything is just right, and the eternal moment becomes The Eternal Moment, he will exist forever in its glory. But the time for that has not yet come.
His house is warm, open and inviting. A subconscious refection of his understanding of the eternal moment. All his furniture is wooden, beautifully made, with a simple shine from polish. Not a thing is out of place and yet the house still feels like a home.
A wood fire sits in the corner of the living room. It stands in almost the exact centre of the house. Its warmth radiates outwards heating even the coldest rooms. Without it the house would feel cold and unfriendly. With it the house becomes open and inviting.
He goes over to the fire and puts another log on it. He squats there and watches the fire lick at its new food, exploring it with red hot tongues of flame. After licking it all over, too make sure it is what it appears to be, the fire bites into the wood, consuming it with a need and a hunger that never ends.
After watching the fire accept his sacrifice he stands and walks away from the beating heart of his home. He puts a hand up to his face and feels the heat left there by the fire. It reminds him of the sun and the eternal moment. He smiles at that thought and in that instant his face is beautiful.
There was a black brightness as the sun shone through the closed eyelids. The warmth of it sunk into the skin. It wormed its way into the centre of his body, more intimate that any form of human contact could be.
Lying in the sun, with his eyes closed, he could imagine anything. Anything was possible. Anything was possible and everything was real. The ties of the physical world became transparent in the suns rays and some of them snapped like rubber bands too often used.
Time became non-linear and then ceased to exist at all. The past, present and future became one with the eternal moment of existence. History ran parallel with the distant future and together they danced in the morning light to the music of their laughter. The present, the child of their love, filled the air between them with a soft presence that comforted and killed all thoughts of linear movement.
Lost in this eternal moment the buzzing of the insects and the soft caress of the breeze become the most important things to exist. To have ever existed. They are the last links with the physical existence that traps him on earth. They ear the things he must defeat in order to rise above it all and truly be part of the eternal moment.
A twig snaps and his eyes instantly open. He is once more totally in the physical world with its impure minions and dangerous temptations. He sits up and looks around, trying to find the source of the noise.
The crack comes again and his head snaps round. A kangaroo looks up at him through the railing of his veranda. It looks at him with a knowledge that he finds disturbing. He stands up suddenly and the kangaroo bounds off, back into the bush, leaving him alone again.
He leans on the railing and watches the bush for any sign of the animal. Bees collect nectar from the passion flowers that grow on the vine that grows around the railing. Their simple noise does not disturb him. Rather it sooths him with its monotony.
Abruptly he turns and goes into the house, his morning ritual over for the day. He understands that it is too tempting to spend the day in contemplation of the eternal moment. Soon, when everything is just right, and the eternal moment becomes The Eternal Moment, he will exist forever in its glory. But the time for that has not yet come.
His house is warm, open and inviting. A subconscious refection of his understanding of the eternal moment. All his furniture is wooden, beautifully made, with a simple shine from polish. Not a thing is out of place and yet the house still feels like a home.
A wood fire sits in the corner of the living room. It stands in almost the exact centre of the house. Its warmth radiates outwards heating even the coldest rooms. Without it the house would feel cold and unfriendly. With it the house becomes open and inviting.
He goes over to the fire and puts another log on it. He squats there and watches the fire lick at its new food, exploring it with red hot tongues of flame. After licking it all over, too make sure it is what it appears to be, the fire bites into the wood, consuming it with a need and a hunger that never ends.
After watching the fire accept his sacrifice he stands and walks away from the beating heart of his home. He puts a hand up to his face and feels the heat left there by the fire. It reminds him of the sun and the eternal moment. He smiles at that thought and in that instant his face is beautiful.
posted by Supermarez at 11:31 am
2 Comments:
Wow, beautifully descriptive. I really felt I was there in the sun, in fact it was really calming to read. But who is this guy? The guy who's been seen around town? Linked to the killings? I notice Callie is alive... Note to self: "dead to the world" should not be taken litterally (A)
Nick
Hey Marez, its great, I'm hooked. I feel like I'm actually part of Atlantis, that small town with it's tight knit friendships and sense of comunity, but also its gosip and backstabbings... I savour every new story, every piece of the puzzle, but you always leave me hanging out for more! With each new story there are more and more whats, whens and hows, but mostly whos. OH WHO? WHO? WHO? but I suppose you plan to put us out of our misery in your own good time.
Zoe
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