Stars fell to earth like snow drops. Each one uniquely designed for an impact,

but most never reaching the surface of the swirling sea. A summer’s evening on a rocky

beach, the horizon aglow with crimson as night-time turned from twilight to moon-light, and yet,

stars still fell bright as could be, and the nightingales sang sweet, and all this

for free. Los Angeles is a miracle guised in simplicity. You must stay alert and

tuned into the beat of this city to truly feel its pulse, and grasp its complex,

supremely accomplished sophistication, but, as I have inferred, this is a matter of

perception and the depths of each man's inner sight. I love this city. I did not always feel

this way. In days gone by, I only saw the surface of my city and I believed in ubiquitous gross generalities.

Then, one mid-summer’s evening, just such a one as I now describe, her face appeared before

me in a vision. She asked if I might tell her story the way it was truly meant to be told.

I replied, "It will be my honor and privilege to help other people finally see your true

beauty and the grandeur of your soul; to speak of truths that had been stolen so

long ago by men with covetous designs on your lands, your souls, and your bounty."

She didn't miss a beat as she expertly maneuvered over this knowledge I suddenly possessed.

She simply asked me again to tell the world the truth of her story, the story of Medusa,

the Gorgon with the snaky locks. All I had to do was perch myself on clouds of silver,

and listen to the story of the Gorgon's head, however the story might reveal it's self to me.

This ephemeral, divine apparition also said to be on the look out for a young man wise beyond his years.

He would be a messenger and hold the keys to unlocking the mysteries of the ancients,

which I would need to possess if I wanted to know the truth behind the truth.

Medusa then presented me with a silk pair of slippers with wings on either side.

She dissapeared before I could ask any questions. The first question would have been,

"What kind of shoes are these and how do I use them?" Oh, well.

The next question would have been, "How does one perch on silver clouds?" I didn’t even think to ask.

I felt casually confident that I would effortlessly master the art of cloud perching

when I needed to employ it, naturally. Oh! And I would also ask, "What's a Gorgon's head?"




(Continued tomorrow)Re-edit may 25 2007

05/24/2007

Posted on 05/25/2007
Copyright © 2025 Scott Utley