This Lonely World - 1. Story

THIS LONELY WORLD

By bugeye

Leave a part out for now
To relieve upset
And ease into it
So round about
This story must go

A time for less. Timeless. An end to less. Endless. Threshold. A time to hold. Passage. A time to…

It was a good size for a hill. Not too much and quite enough. At the crest, a circle of tall walnut trees defined an open meadow. Round about the walnuts were smaller Chinese chestnuts. The slopes of the hill were covered in ancient climbing roses, well… around a hundred years old anyway. The roses were in full bloom. White. Red. Pink. Cream and Blood and Flesh. Fresh, heavy and ardent. Scent. All rooted in a sea of shimmering wildness. Grass as tall, grass as green, grass as alive… as anything in this creation. At the base of the hill, again a long time ago, a brook came by and politely took its leave, traveling the easier path. A gravel drive shadowed the brook and circled most of the hill, before heading across the rolling field towards the old estate house. The drive led to this private world, few ever saw.

It is with pause
It is a doubt
A question?
Asked over time
Many times
Did it have to be you
To change me
Before my time had passed
Resigned myself
To a simple life
To bide and bid
Tender

Now I ask…
Is my answer an answer
To stop searching
Tomorrow
Explore this day
Stop
Reciting remembrance
And feel the breeze at play

You and the world
Are Lonely
You and the world
Are Wanting
You and the world and me

From nowhere
There came a sparking
To you and me
And to the world
Came a greeting
Maybe…
We and our world
Together
Can make
Whole
The world
We will mend
Content
Just us until the end
Out of this world
And it’s reinvent

Waiting. Impatient. Yet calmly standing. A grand old house. Stately behind simple humility. Built with care and aged with character. Full of life and love, neglect and regret. Sorrow overflowing and joyous erupting. A broad smile of greeting. A façade. Change was coming this day. Chance had gained entry. As a guest this time.

It is a beginning
A foundation
A start
It is an answer
Given over time
Many times
It could have been
Anyone
You were ready
Is all
Your hand reached out
An offering of healing
Feeling
A bounty of promise
A touch of sun
Light
Thru your night
A guide

… That was Needed

Need deep down
Down to the bone
A place for me
A home for you
A face appealing
Pulling me
A hunger
Pulling you
Constant
Ever together
The world reeling
My soul kneeling
Without concealing
Secrets revealing
Hand in hand
A truth as real
A lie as killing
Death deceiving
Out of this world
But yet breathing

Park your car at the gate. Walk the drive. For your first visit it is a must. Irises grow along the drive in long rows of purple and then yellow. Midway to the house there is a sweeping, weeping willow that overhangs the drive, like a massive stage curtain. Every fifty steps there is a crepe myrtle, again huge with age. The drive runs from south to north and the sun will be still rising from the east. The drive will lead. Deep shadow and brilliant sun and dabbled light will pull you onward. A brown thrasher always scurries down the drive pursued by any intruder, only to take flight into a never ending squabble with his neighbor, a mockingbird.

What do you have
After the questions
After the answers
After the song is done
A place in this world
A place in his world
His heart
Out of this world
Out of his mind
To choose you

A long lanky step of one at ease draws the eye. Passing under the willow he pauses. An answer approaches. From out of this world, this lonely world he comes.

Waiting. A life time of waiting. In denial. It is patience. Not impatience. I do not turn to the sky and yearn. I do not plead. I do not cry.

Out of my depth
Out of this comes
My reserve
My way
Could I read his thoughts
As I watch his steps
Out of his own will
He comes
Out of my reach still
His hand an infinite embrace
From out of this world
Comes my end

© 2010 Bugeye

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