I



Peace flows through the waterfalls of my land. Hawks with river red
shoulders soar on trampoline skies high above fertile ground where everything grows
with out asking. Upon these boulders at the mouth of this river I call
forgiveness~near redwood groves standing tall upon razor blade cliffs of desire~I
keep a company of one. I am happy. Each morning I tend my crops. At midday I give
thanks to the sun. When dusk arrives, I drench myself under blue dot starlight &
give thanks to the moon. When my prayers are done, I lend my gaze towards the
creatures who are always about. We share a fond curiosity for each other. We are
equals. Their love keeps my heart polished. I soothe theirs with songs from my soul.
This is the way of the world of a simple man living a simple life upon holy land.
It wasn't always like this.

II

I am sweaty naked standing over a filthy floor in an emptied room beside a fireplace
that has never seen a true fire. I survey the battlefield before me. I am shocked
but I do not flinch. I am wounded but I do not bleed. I am an atrocity. I am the
last hope of my kind. I must survive. I haven’t a choice. I feel shame yet I am
proud. I marvel at the accumulated detritus of three years worth of grief. My smug
guilt-laced admiration for this excremental no-man’s wasteland laying prone before
me is tempered by a pervading sense of self deception. Regret crawls under my skin.
I cannot scratch this itch. There is no one here or anywhere who can scratch it for
me. There are no drugs, illicit or otherwise, that have the power to reconstruct my
faulty fractured DNA.

I have my viewfinder set to intricate detail but something is not right. I cannot
figure out exactly what that something is but I know something is missing. There are
no cannons. There are no tanks. There are no rotting corpses here. The trenches were
far muddier in my war. The pools of blood were tar black & thicker than that of this
battlefield before me. There are orange poppies painted in bold relief upon the
should know. I have a damned medal of dishonor knifed into my brawny chest. This
scene may look dreary enough but it lacks the heroic brutality I proudly claim I
suffered. If I told you I caused this suffering with explosives I planted upon the
dark side of my heart I would turn to shattered glass. I will not utter another word
about it but speechless or not, I remain the same …

… a desolate landscape. No life will live here. I’m meaningless. I have lost the
only war I ever truly cared enough to fight. If I could I would turn back the hands


of time but I am unable to do such a thing. I've tried. I can travel without moving
through a multitude of parallel universes with you in the room. You’d never notice.
I've morphed into a butterfly more times then there are trees in the forest but I
cannot go back in time. That would take a miracle. Just as well. Why would I want to
go back in time? These are the best years of my life for I have the memories of the
best years of my life living, loving & being with you. If this is true then where
has the sun gone? Who am I? Who are you? Where are we?

III

Moments slide backwards then stop altogether. Deep spaces in between billions of
misfiring synapses within my skull are illuminated by flashes of electric mind-
blowing white. My eyes are mesmerized. My face is paralyzed. My body is now a
paradise. I don’t know what this means. All I know is if I don’t allow whatever my
mind wants to say flow freely out of my mouth I shall explode. My body is now a
paradise for strangers with no faces. What does this mean? I’m frightened. Time is
still but not so my mind as it forges its escape … and …

… I am a blue translucent dragonfly careening through thickets of moss over the
rushing creek of this canyon. I am frantic frenetic to find the source of my lover’s
cries within a crystallized powder blue shroud of mist. The faster I go the further
away I am. My consciousness shifts instantaneously. I cannot breathe. I see through
my contorted version of reality in a flash of warped time & space. I don’t like
this. I hate it! I’m claustrophobic but I never realized this until now. As I spin
upward seeking my one last gasp of air, enough room explodes within the implosion of
my soul. I remember. This is the place I fought my war & I am its lone survivor. I
stand face to face with myself. I cannot bare it a moment longer. I can barely hold
my head up. Before I am able to screw my courage to the whipping post this moment is
gone forever.

VI

Below me is the exalted grave of a spiritual warrior I could not live up to then, &
I cannot live up to now. As worthy as I may seem in the eyes of the unknowing, I am
a dwarf star next to a supernova. I know this. I wonder why it’s always me who
survives? I lament that I have been gifted throughout my life with the great love of
great men & women only to sever my spirit’s spine every time.

V

I wonder at the emotions & the crack hearted questions splattered all over these
wounded walls. There is blood on the floor leading into a darkened hallway. I
thought I knew where that hallway leads to but I don’t remember now. As hard as I
try to recall, all I see is a blank screen. I am a television turned to thunderous
static on mute. If I were not deaf I would go completely insane. The channel I am
looking for has been moved to another world where I no longer get the signal.

I vaguely recall a man’s heart dripping a trail of tears; tears of blood from a
shattered heart. That is what these stains in my eyes are. I see that much. I
remember this much; a man squatting in the corner of this room, his eyes shut blind
& his ears with no sound to hear. He resembles me. I turn my head away as fast as I
can. In this moment I am afraid. I’m almost too frightened to breathe but not too
afraid to cry. It passes. This moment passes into eternity along with all the

others.

VI

War is over. I survive. I may be crippled but I’m not lame. I have scars deeply
etched into my soul’s flesh but I shall sing again. I hear music even when it isn't
playing. I know I shall sing once again.

Whenever I see these snapshots of your mind I wonder why I wondered how the debris


on these walls & this floor ever came to be? I don’t remember. It doesn't matter
now. Thank you for taking my mind to a different sort of landscape. The soul
creatures you create are quite beautiful. They always were. The ones you have sent
to cover my heart in winter are the loveliest ones of all. That kind of living
artwork cannot be taught. It cannot be given to anyone as if it were a mere
commodity. One must earn it & learn it through lifetimes of service in joy. I know


that now. Here comes the sun.



(To be continued.)

LA CA USA
FRIDAY JULY 4th, 2014

07/04/2014

Posted on 07/04/2014
Copyright © 2025 Scott Utley