Autumn Wind

Why am I so transfixed by withering leaves?
Do I love the sound of rain because tears are hard?
Is my affinity for cold really nothing but my inability to stomach summer’s heat?
Is that why I fell for the Autumn Wind?
That’s it, really.
I fell ~
And I will keep falling.
How else am I supposed to fill this void with life?
Cold, shivering, and soaked, but uncontrollably laughing.
Drain away the vestiges of warmth and let me rejoice in her frigid embrace.

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White Noise

Solitude is good for many things, you only realise which when you no longer have access. I can’t hear the sound of my own thoughts over all the noise. I’m too tired to think anyway, and what ideas do come my way feel uninspired. How bizarre, that these things are what make a good life.That is what I hear at least, through all the static.

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Loud Noises

Staring through sky rise window panes at a cityscape alight with insomnia, I embrace this silent solitude. The mad cacophony of life is held at bay by nothing more than thin sheets of glass. The tiniest crack would rob me of my illusion and bring an end to both sanctuary and respite. 

Window panes or proverbial eyes, I marvel at those with the courage to keep their windows open. Courage? No, madness. Who could embrace the enormity of such chaos without going mad? Perhaps that is life’s ultimate truth: insanity. 

Personally, I don’t mind the quiet. Silence is conducive to a pensive mind. 

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There are Things Only a Piano Can Say

Nathaniel sat at the only place where he could hear what he felt, with his back against the cold rock of a building wall, one leg dangling over the ledge of an eight-storey building. A single cloud passed by overhead, an ephemeral shadow suspended between faint, silver-lit stars and electric rivers of artificial gold. Even through the alarm of a never-sleeping city, he heard the lamenting tune of a piano.  If he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, he could almost feel the notes on his skin. Carried by the mid-night wind, he presumed.

“There are things,” he said aloud without opening his eyes. “That can only be expressed through a piano. But I suppose you already know that.”

A smile briefly touched the corner of his mouth as the melody changed. Opening his eyes, he continued, “Exceptional, isn’t she?”

Nathaniel reached out and grasp the open air with his right hand, as if trying to hold on to the music. “It’s the subtle undertone of hope underneath all that sorrow. Whoever she is, she’s achieved what I never could.”

Tears found their way into his eyes, where they lingered for a long time before finally falling down his cheeks. Somewhere far below, the insistent siren of a police-car overpowered the piano. If only for a moment. Nathaniel drew his right hand back in, and placed it over his heart. Only when he could hear the piano again did he remove it.

“I will not apologise for my tears.” The smile that had briefly touched his face found its way back. “But I understand why they might make you uncomfortable.”

With great caution Nathaniel shifted his position. Now his left leg dangled over the edge instead of his right. The chill of the stone underneath him had worked its way through his clothes and numbed him to the bone.

“There is someone I miss, a great deal. I was never angry like my sister, nor as honest in my despair as my brother. Even though it’s been five years I don’t think either of them understand, why it’s so hard for me to mourn.”

Looking down into his lap and seeing his attentive listener busy playing with his shoelaces, Nathaniel could not help himself. He smiled. He smiled even though his melancholy never fully left his eyes.

“I could never put it into words,” he told the kitten as it pounced his heel. “But I knew the moment I first heard my neighbour play the piano. I knew that someone out there understood.”

“Do you understand?” he asked the little creature.

He allowed himself a brief chuckle when the kitten mewed at him. “You probably do.”

When the distant piano’s final note rang out, Nathaniel picked the kitten up, so that he could have a closer look at the collar. “Does your owner know you’re up here?”

Both of his eyebrows rose up when he noted the names inscribed on the tiny medallion attached to the collar. Laughter worked its way up from his stomach and out into the night. “Life sure is strange! Let’s get you home to your musically gifted human.”

He rose, stepped down from his perch and onto the roof of the building, carrying the kitten in his arms. With his shoelaces chewed on and slightly undone, he made sure he paid attention to every step he took.

Opening the door to the building and stepping through, he made his way down two flights of stairs. Eventually he stood outside a door he had never knocked on before.

Looking down at the squirming little creature, he took a deep breath and rapped his knuckles against the door. “There is something I need to ask,” he whispered and looked up in time to see the door swing open.

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Spring Morning

I see before me a river valley,
Framed by cloud-piercing mountains.
I stand just above the tree-line,
Breathing cold, thin air.
With snow that never melts,
underneath my feet ~
I gaze down at spring,
in full bloom.
Yet just as a smile is about to find me,
I open my eyes.
Groggy, I stare… into the ceiling,
And curse my shitty curtains.

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Only With Time

Some say that time heals.

But in truth,

Pain is the is the cleanser.

Fear of this purging flame, 

Is not quite accurate.

Fear of the fire itself,

Or fear of being scorched ~

Pain is not scary, not even a little.

Only with time does it become truly terrifying.

Be it ache, wounds, or trauma,

It is not pain,

But pain without end ~

We should fear.

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Not Just Me

I used to dream of the wind. I welcomed her cold touch, no matter the season. I have always known, however, who is hiding in my shadow.I have dreamed of you as well.

It has been quite some time, since we spoke. Longer yet since I dreamed.I suppose I have hidden myself away a little too well. Escaped into my cave. But what use is trying, when your hiding from your own shadow?

Not quite true. A lie, if a brief one. It would be more accurate to say that I have hidden within my shadow. I like wearing it, it fits me like a nice coat.

I have what I need. A place to sleep, but nothing soft. My back cannot stand too soft. A blanket too, just the one. Then there are candles. Gentle, discrete, considerate candles.

Allow me a sigh as I speak, just the one is enough. It is high time we spoke. I want it back, you see. My ability to dream. I would not waste them on the wind. No, this time I would dream for two. Not just me.

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