Sellophane

I lie flat across the grassy slope enveloped by the fragrance of an emergent mist. Above me the illusion of a thousand shimmering stars etch themselves across the patchy suburban sky. Inside me I can feel the echo of a fossilized dream pulse. It is in these purple and golden hues of hidden memory that I seek the answers to questions that are tattooed underneath my skin. I do not have to construct these questions, they are a part of me, engraved onto the very consciousness of my being.

It is this question that makes me human. This question is not forcibly constructed and imprisoned in the framework of words, punctuation marks, paragraphs and margins. It can't be scratched onto the electric white paper by a tyrannical hand. It is more than that.

It expresses the desire of a comma to connect yet separate thoughts, ideas and hence lives. Within it pulse the melodies of forgotten memories that remain unsaid like exclamation marks basking in the glow of silence. It is a question that dares not end with the illusion of a question mark but the smile of a new sentence, a new beginning, a new memory that a full stop promises.

As i lie stretched out in a suburban park, where the sound of children's laughter and the occasional rustle of an unknown creature in the undergrowth seems to envelope me like a memory of a forgotten lullaby. It is then that I realize the nature of this question, that seems so thoroughly drenched in my memories. It is around this question that I have randomly arranged the jigsaw pieces of my memories.

I have realized that my life is but a blur of memories. Memories that are painted with broken colors of not just that past but also the present and the future. These memories define my life and allow me to live the present and envision the future. These memories pulse beneath the skin, the bone, the muscle and the sinew. These memories define the path for immense oblivion that the unknown, unnamed and unanswered question promises.

I felt the tender kiss of the breeze on my skin as I reveled in the understanding of the question. As the star light dimmed into the hazy concoction of blurs and memories that I had created, I realized that words no longer clutter my eyes and questions no longer cluttered my mind.

I close my eyes and let my mind wander into the world of memories where smiles traces into the dust are more alive than the blood that gushes in my veins.

-------

I wrote this in the summer, also the Image is by Francis Bacon if I am not grossly mistaken...