Tomorrow
The air pops in his ears, sucking sounds away to the laboratory of progress.
There is a sliver of a moment, infinite and fleeting, when all futures come to nothing.
He holds his breath as if he has no choice.
Particles of dust hang in the air - anticipating gravity.
Still as the heart that has no companion.
The cat, each hair on its tail standing out in paranoid clarity, tenses its haunches in preparation for flight.
Still as the mind that has scaled the face of everything.
The hair on his arm stands upright and sways to the lullaby played out on scales infinite and absolute,
Still as the sap that will boil in the tree.
The air becomes solid, sculpted in time suspended - all history denied.
There is an inrush of sound returning to the room: the ticking clock, the humming fan.
He draws a breath, a breath that is soon sucked from his lungs as the world itself inhales.
Particles of dust accelerate outward toward the boiling core.
A breath so deep as to bow the wooden door.
As anticipated, the cat takes flight against the current; ears flat against its head, heading elsewhere.
A breath to declare all previous breathing wasted.
His hair whips across his face - it smells like rain.
A breath as deep as no tomorrow.
No tomorrow
The air pops in his ears, sucking sounds away to the laboratory of progress.
There is a sliver of a moment, infinite and fleeting, when all futures come to nothing.
He holds his breath as if he has no choice.
Particles of dust hang in the air - anticipating gravity.
Still as the heart that has no companion.
The cat, each hair on its tail standing out in paranoid clarity, tenses its haunches in preparation for flight.
Still as the mind that has scaled the face of everything.
The hair on his arm stands upright and sways to the lullaby played out on scales infinite and absolute,
Still as the sap that will boil in the tree.
The air becomes solid, sculpted in time suspended - all history denied.
There is an inrush of sound returning to the room: the ticking clock, the humming fan.
He draws a breath, a breath that is soon sucked from his lungs as the world itself inhales.
Particles of dust accelerate outward toward the boiling core.
A breath so deep as to bow the wooden door.
As anticipated, the cat takes flight against the current; ears flat against its head, heading elsewhere.
A breath to declare all previous breathing wasted.
His hair whips across his face - it smells like rain.
A breath as deep as no tomorrow.
No tomorrow
6 comments:
wow,really intense..and deliverance but tragic because of the cat...
ha! never mind the humans eh Candie :)
In fact,I should agree cause most of the time,animals are better beings than men but,don't get me wrong,when I said "tragic because of the cat" I've meant by that where's his mirror?I'd rather have a man next to me than a cat on that day,but I'm also aware that they aren't as faithful as cats..
No tomorrow - I was thinking that today.
Candie: mmm our cat is faithful oly to the hand that feeds it :) but I know what you mean
James: wot, no friday! tell me it's not true!
For James, there is always a tomorrow. We just can't be sure what it will bring!
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