ode to my sun
i caught a bit of sun today. or rather it caught me as i escaped the blistering cold. right in the middle of the street i was crossing. i stopped, something i haven't done in a while. it caught the end of my ear and singed my nose that was red. i felt like the spaceship in that (horrible) movie "sunshine" whenever the glare of the sun touched the metal, and yellowness suffused everything grey.
the sun kissed me briefly in the middle of the street today. it's been eons of decades of missed centuries of darkness, recently. apocalyptic icy deserts of barren useless whiteness, not the soft beautiful enveloping whiteness but the (again), apocalyptic post-nuclear deathly grey whiteness with the crystals of salt littering the streets and scavenging your shoes to save your bones. but the sun kissed me briefly and it was worth it. it kissed my soul before the clammy darkness stole it away again. my soul, it's vanished again. nothing but ether or organic matter or lifeforms of carbon to replace it. a vaccuum of bland nothingness barely alive, alive only to hibernate, alive only to wait for the next glimpse of yellow-tinged world in whose burroughs i can melt, not even to melt, just to imagine that i can melt.
when i'm incapable of imagining something, that means it's dead to me. like memory dead. i can still imagine the stars that moved while i looked at them sprawled on my grandmother's swing. i can still imagine me rising before dawn (and for anyone who knows me that takes ALOT of imagination) and listening to the staccatto of the church bell and the rooster. i can imagine me right now falling asleep in a lecture with my head becoming the heaviest burden ever imaginable.
but yesterday, i could not imagine the sun. or sitting in the sun. or letting the sun touch my arms, even burn them. i could not imagine walking outside without thinking of walking inside. it kissed me today, though. finally.
had i been born in an earth that was still forging metal from pure fire and building mountains of gods and goddesses and pyramids in sun-filled lands, i would have believed in the god they believed in. and danced in circles and ellipses and ovals for the god they believed in. the sun. i would have been a believer.
now we ignore it. we hide from it. we slather cream to escape it. we prefer to see the world in black tones under shades of glass to hide our eyes from it. and we live in places, in sun-forsaken places.
it kissed me, and today, i felt like blogging again. imagine that..
the sun kissed me briefly in the middle of the street today. it's been eons of decades of missed centuries of darkness, recently. apocalyptic icy deserts of barren useless whiteness, not the soft beautiful enveloping whiteness but the (again), apocalyptic post-nuclear deathly grey whiteness with the crystals of salt littering the streets and scavenging your shoes to save your bones. but the sun kissed me briefly and it was worth it. it kissed my soul before the clammy darkness stole it away again. my soul, it's vanished again. nothing but ether or organic matter or lifeforms of carbon to replace it. a vaccuum of bland nothingness barely alive, alive only to hibernate, alive only to wait for the next glimpse of yellow-tinged world in whose burroughs i can melt, not even to melt, just to imagine that i can melt.
when i'm incapable of imagining something, that means it's dead to me. like memory dead. i can still imagine the stars that moved while i looked at them sprawled on my grandmother's swing. i can still imagine me rising before dawn (and for anyone who knows me that takes ALOT of imagination) and listening to the staccatto of the church bell and the rooster. i can imagine me right now falling asleep in a lecture with my head becoming the heaviest burden ever imaginable.
but yesterday, i could not imagine the sun. or sitting in the sun. or letting the sun touch my arms, even burn them. i could not imagine walking outside without thinking of walking inside. it kissed me today, though. finally.
had i been born in an earth that was still forging metal from pure fire and building mountains of gods and goddesses and pyramids in sun-filled lands, i would have believed in the god they believed in. and danced in circles and ellipses and ovals for the god they believed in. the sun. i would have been a believer.
now we ignore it. we hide from it. we slather cream to escape it. we prefer to see the world in black tones under shades of glass to hide our eyes from it. and we live in places, in sun-forsaken places.
it kissed me, and today, i felt like blogging again. imagine that..
posted by rouba at
5:50 PM
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