Thursday, August 06, 2009

I am a ghost and a Joycean epiphany

I am a ghost and an epiphany, drifting through life, visiting friends that I once had, remembering times we once had together. I drift into parties, gatherings, get togethers, and make my presence known, not indicating to people that I'm one of the dead and that my presence is impossible. After the affairs they realize what has happened, and it brings them reflections, but it doesn't bring me peace. I still wander, examining the structures of a world I left long ago. I appear corporeal but disappear like smoke, a remnant of a far gone age that shared the same space with these places. And the snow falls, and we all remember, some of us ensconced in townhouses, some of us inhabiting much different places. But for one night, for one moment, we can dance and we can imagine what once was and what may have been. We can pretend the reality that's around us, that we both live in, doesn't exist for a moment. We can suspend our disbelief and our divisions, overlook the cruelty that has accrued to some of us and the fortune that has encrusted others. Temporarily equals, to be quite different later, we can pretend that our fantasy is reality and conjure up dreams that can grow and twist more and more intricately up into the sky. Then I have to go. It's always like this, I leave my trace, but my essence was defeated long ago, lost in fields where playing gave rise to violence, shattered innocence, the death of the soul.

My life died in the Elysian fields of youth and purity; I exist somewhere on the side of a country road in late spring or early summer,my home, with no hint of discord, no awareness of what's really out there, or of the hard lessons that we all have to learn.

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