WALKING BY

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just Walking by.

For ‘tis with the waking of the sun, comes the day dawn breaking, with alas the fast fading end of a moon silvered sea, these moving moments of magic are my lingering memories of freedoms since now; a long time gone, as the chronograph counter at the shore of the sea washes away my foot fall in time and sand: yet, but for that mechanical sound; of those frozen moments caught and held captive in a frame so still: yea soon to be discarded as the memory dims of my time spent on this wonderful world that man has defiled. Throughout the three score and ten years of my time spent in this world many views have charmed, alarmed and confused me, yet many others have enchanted, enraptured and beguiled me with a fascination in having seen only once, a personal appreciation of animated perfection in the human form. Perfection appears in many shapes and sizes, in so doing confuses the preference of choice, standing midst a field of flowers in bloom, awash with hues of varied colour swayed by the passing moment of a cooling breeze we are asked, “nay,” in social terms, commanded, to make our choice of availability midst so much perfection. “How is one to make a perfect choice”?
Having, long time since made my choice, I continued and continue to walk through those flower fields of life looking but not selecting other preferences, until, I chanced to see a symmetry of perfection guised in vegetative state residing in harmonious composure ‘neath cascading palm fronds of many years standing, calling to me, calling my name, I was drawn by the sound of siren, of come hither, “yea” treasure my measure of visual pleasure, I succumbed to the indulgence offered, and have ever since been infected with an incurable malaise of dissatisfaction.
‘Twas written: “full many a flower is born to blush unseen and waste its sweetness on the desert air”. Denuded of nuance twas ever thus for countless aeons of time, for in the forestation and desert gardens of this world there are still many flowers born to blush unseen and will ever be so, as the rapacious demand for land being scoured to botanical sterility by man continues unabated, they will have blushed “never” to have been seen.
Having once lived, and treasured my stay on a secret isle, (now, long since gone, I can never return; as to infinity, tempus fugit ) I was moved by direction to the land of Cactaceae where variation of perfection in symmetry still lingers yet awhile.
So to Chasing the Dragon (blog) I return to Hylocereus Undatus where ‘tis said I’ll have but one hour of darkness in which to take advantage from the Queen of the night, by getting a digital high if I am just,
walking by.

• 29 Jan, 2012
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