No one is even glimpsing among the graveled chips of crust today. I don't know how long I've been cracked into this tiny piece; but obscured and unnoticed in the randomness of placement is better than being kicked around.
It is usually the case when your tarnished side is up, leaving you vulnerable. I've accepted that my lackluster doesn't have the appeal of the natural beauty in resplendent gems and sea shells The only hope lies in the never-ending winds and currents of perpetual browsing; otherwise you submit to erosion. So, you lay in wait like an orphan longing to be adopted. A linear fracture line might attract an artist's eye.
In the dream it happened.
This time two worlds didn't collide and neither one collapsed; they eclipsed. To rest in the hand of flesh was vibrant, and the release into a warm pocket was comforting. The encounter was more than remembered occasions of mindless elevations into thoughtless hand squeezes before being hurled into a different community, usually into a body of water if not striking a tree or landing into forlorn foliage.
The shock of hearing a voice speak to me was weird,but it was a new sensation. The lingering thumb on my gash made me feel as if I had a breath to draw, leaving me as surprised as a drunk prostitute's reaction to a brief smooch after a service rendered.
As any other element awakened by the sun's power to close dreams. I'm content to have remembered this one and hope that someday I might even become preserved in a Klimt mosaic.
Sunday, January 31, 2016
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