On some day when you recall me
I will be washed up on the shore
Of things unfinished and forgotten,
or unwillingly endured.
That's where I've lain forever
A relic washing in the surf, sun
Bleaching me as white as foam
And only the sand has the decency
to prick me
and remind me
that I still am of the earth.
"Where am I?"
"Why'd you lose me?"
May my questions prick you as the sand pricks my cheek.
An unrelenting, irritating memory of pain.
"Regret."
"Come, retrieve me."
I am lying where I lay
On the beach of things you left unfinished
On the endless shore of white.
8.29.2011
5.28.2010
"Angel" means "slave" in Heaven Part III
CHAPTER III
They reached a night-time city where lights glowed in paper windows and the air was like the air on a mountain-top, scented with fog and steam and cold, but purer than any mountaintop in life. For this was Heaven, where the dreams and imaginings and longings of the living world were collected and concentrated and made manifest.
The angel followed the cat through the streets which, though empty, gave the impression of merriment just behind the opaque paper screens. It was lonely outside the screens. The angel dragged her feet, barely decent as her robe dragged on the ground behind her. It had fallen off her shoulders and hung low under her wings, which had grown to the length of her back, and she held the flaps closed halfheartedly. Her skinny back bent under the unaccustomed weight. Her wings grew as she walked, and after eleven or so steps they were so long that the longest feather just touched the ground. The feathers weren't white, but black as her hair and the sins on her stolen soul.
"It wasn't stolen," said the angel, picking up the cat's thoughts. "I sold it."
"How old were you?"
"Ten, I think--for the first time."
"I rest my case."
As they grew closer to the other end, the chain became fully visible, until they reached a wooden building where one screen was slightly open, the chain leading inside.
"This is where your master is," said the cat. "And this is where I leave you."
The angel shrunk in size, appearing suddenly as the ten-year-old child she had been, once upon a time, and still was, in some ways. Her lip trembled, and she looked at the cat with longing. But she didn't dare ask it not to go.
"You may pet me," said the cat, archness masking pity. The Cat shed its robes and appeared as a small tabby cat. The girl sat on the soft dirt road and gathered the animal into his arms.
The screen door flew open with a clatter and a slam. A man with blue skin and eyes like the primordial Light scowled down at them.
"No! No! This won't do at all. I need you to look sexy for our guests." He yanked on the chain and she fell away from the Cat, and was suddenly a young woman again, dressed richly this time in a robe of celestial blue spangled with stars.
"Get rid of those scars," said her Master, for they still burned an angry red across her skin. He yanked the chain again and her skin was a smooth, luminous white.
"Your payment," said the blue-man to the Cat, who had re-donned his robe. He offered the agreed-upon price, a shiny Karma coin.
"I don't need it," said the Cat, turning away. And he did not, for the Karma in his pocket had doubled from the compassion he had shown a little girl.
To be continued...
They reached a night-time city where lights glowed in paper windows and the air was like the air on a mountain-top, scented with fog and steam and cold, but purer than any mountaintop in life. For this was Heaven, where the dreams and imaginings and longings of the living world were collected and concentrated and made manifest.
The angel followed the cat through the streets which, though empty, gave the impression of merriment just behind the opaque paper screens. It was lonely outside the screens. The angel dragged her feet, barely decent as her robe dragged on the ground behind her. It had fallen off her shoulders and hung low under her wings, which had grown to the length of her back, and she held the flaps closed halfheartedly. Her skinny back bent under the unaccustomed weight. Her wings grew as she walked, and after eleven or so steps they were so long that the longest feather just touched the ground. The feathers weren't white, but black as her hair and the sins on her stolen soul.
"It wasn't stolen," said the angel, picking up the cat's thoughts. "I sold it."
"How old were you?"
"Ten, I think--for the first time."
"I rest my case."
As they grew closer to the other end, the chain became fully visible, until they reached a wooden building where one screen was slightly open, the chain leading inside.
"This is where your master is," said the cat. "And this is where I leave you."
The angel shrunk in size, appearing suddenly as the ten-year-old child she had been, once upon a time, and still was, in some ways. Her lip trembled, and she looked at the cat with longing. But she didn't dare ask it not to go.
"You may pet me," said the cat, archness masking pity. The Cat shed its robes and appeared as a small tabby cat. The girl sat on the soft dirt road and gathered the animal into his arms.
The screen door flew open with a clatter and a slam. A man with blue skin and eyes like the primordial Light scowled down at them.
"No! No! This won't do at all. I need you to look sexy for our guests." He yanked on the chain and she fell away from the Cat, and was suddenly a young woman again, dressed richly this time in a robe of celestial blue spangled with stars.
"Get rid of those scars," said her Master, for they still burned an angry red across her skin. He yanked the chain again and her skin was a smooth, luminous white.
"Your payment," said the blue-man to the Cat, who had re-donned his robe. He offered the agreed-upon price, a shiny Karma coin.
"I don't need it," said the Cat, turning away. And he did not, for the Karma in his pocket had doubled from the compassion he had shown a little girl.
To be continued...
9.21.2009
"Angel" means "Slave" in Heaven Part II
CHAPTER 2
Cat led the way through the shadowed path with a hozuki lantern lit with a firefly. The angel glared.
"Is it true that fireflies are the souls of small children?" she asked.
"They are undeveloped souls. Child souls." Cat looked back at the angel, a dark bedraggled thing whose head hung down, as was befitting a slave, but whose eyes burned red as the hozuki lantern. Red as an immature soul.
"The Living are savage because of their emotions. The denizens of Heaven are savage because of their lack of emotions," the angel said.
"They're not good for anything else, might as well put them to use."
"Have you ever led the demon host down the mountain?"
"Cats always do. But I in particular have not. But I am leading you up the mountain." Cat chuckled.
"Why?"
"Because it was something to do."
That was answer enough. Cats could not be swayed by anything but their own capriciousness.
They were indeed walking up a mountain. The alleys had disappeared into a misty gloaming scented with spruce and water and night-time longing. There was no sound, save their own footsteps and, somewhere in the invisible distance, the constant dripping of water.
"Is this the right path?" asked the angel.
"Wherever we go is the right path."
The darkness grew oppressive around them. The path lost shape. It was as if they were being squeezed inside a black bag. Cat fought to hold the lantern steady, lest the soul inside escape. The angel was crying, and Cat realized what held them.
"Stop that!" said Cat. "Picture your happiness memory."
"They're all gone, all gone. I lost them all when I sold my soul."
"Do not despair!" Cat snapped. "Tell me a story. Tell me...about your friend."
"My friend?" said the angel, with the voice of a small child. Ah, no wonder. Children were the easiest to trap, after all--their innocence meant they were not so solidly in the World as adults. It was easiest for them to hear the voices of Heaven, and be tricked by them.
"Yes," said Cat soothingly. "Tell me about your best friend."
She sniffled. "He was fat. And wore glasses. I saved him from bullies. They were stomping on his styrofoam planets."
The path had reappeared, the Despair that had threatened to devour them held at bay.
"Why are you crying?" asked Cat.
"My wings," she sniffed. "They hurt."
Cat held the lantern closer. The angel's robe had slipped down and, sure enough, on her white back had sprouted two angry red stubs.
"They're just growing in. They'll be quite fine, I'm sure."
"I don't want them," she pouted, a petulant child. "Everyone knows what I am, when I wear them. And the collar chokes me."
The golden halo had appeared around her neck. From it hung a chain that disappeared after a few links. The other end, the Cat knew, was in her master's hand. The halo was the most poignant symbol of an angel's enslavement.
Cat, who like all cats, loved freedom over all, felt pity for this foolish child.
5.09.2009
"Angel" Means "Slave" in Heaven /PART I
There are many cracks in the border between Heaven and the lower levels of the World. Some are impressive, massive gates bordered with pearly columns and rays of light. Others are ambiguous, a strange misty place in the world, like on a grey morning where you might wander through a time-slip on your way to buy milk. Others are temporary, ragged rips in the fabrics of the world, mostly occurring when someone miscalculates an infinity jump. Cats know all the kinds of gates, for they pass through with impunity. This particular cat had done so often as well, in his youth, before he tired of adventuring and decided to settle in Heaven permanently.
And then there are dank, dark things that are literally cracks, which no self-respecting cat would use if they could help it. Normally you expect sewage or something rat-like to seep through. The cat had not expected the angel to be in such a hole, and reeking of the red-dust to boot.
"Eat this before you disappear," said the cat, handing the angel a dumpling filled with ambrosia. The angel took it somehow, though it was nothing more than a stain upon a shadow, at that point, with no discernible limbs.
"Now hurry," said the cat. "Come out of there before you solidify and become too big."
The angel scrambled out somehow, lay heaving on the damp street, forming a shape, turning from a shadow color to something with luminous pale skin, and shadowy hair. It resembled a species the cat was familiar with from its youth in the lower world--a Human. A girl to be specific (for the angel was unclothed). As the body solidified, red, angry scars appeared, running along the limbs, the chest--everywhere but the angel's face, which featured eyes that spoke of the sorrows of dust, and played a story of deep pain.
"Put this on," said the cat, tossing it the blue robe. "I'll take you to your master."
"Thank you," said the angel. It stood, donned the robe, followed obediently. It did not ask the cat's name, which meant that even though the angel reeked of the living world, it was at least familiar with the etiquette of Heaven.
...to be continued
And then there are dank, dark things that are literally cracks, which no self-respecting cat would use if they could help it. Normally you expect sewage or something rat-like to seep through. The cat had not expected the angel to be in such a hole, and reeking of the red-dust to boot.
"Eat this before you disappear," said the cat, handing the angel a dumpling filled with ambrosia. The angel took it somehow, though it was nothing more than a stain upon a shadow, at that point, with no discernible limbs.
"Now hurry," said the cat. "Come out of there before you solidify and become too big."
The angel scrambled out somehow, lay heaving on the damp street, forming a shape, turning from a shadow color to something with luminous pale skin, and shadowy hair. It resembled a species the cat was familiar with from its youth in the lower world--a Human. A girl to be specific (for the angel was unclothed). As the body solidified, red, angry scars appeared, running along the limbs, the chest--everywhere but the angel's face, which featured eyes that spoke of the sorrows of dust, and played a story of deep pain.
"Put this on," said the cat, tossing it the blue robe. "I'll take you to your master."
"Thank you," said the angel. It stood, donned the robe, followed obediently. It did not ask the cat's name, which meant that even though the angel reeked of the living world, it was at least familiar with the etiquette of Heaven.
...to be continued
5.03.2009
"Samsara Love Story"
"Enduring as Heaven and Earth...no love however ancient can die;
Timeless as light and shadow--no debt of breeze and moonlight can ever be repaid."
--Tsao Hseuh-chin, Dream of the Red Chamber
We are all bound to the wheel, our tears, our blood as red and transient as dust. Everything that is shall pass, and pass through and under and come back up the middle to occur again. Everything that is shall pass, and we too shall pass and die, then occur again, for we are bound relentlessly to the wheel.
If I meet you, and spend with you all of my days, inevitably my days will end. I will die, and the memories we have together shall fall away, slip like silk through my fingers and I will, bound by the wheel, be born again and should we meet again, I would not know you.
Yet...yet...Love, perhaps, can triumph over Fate. Love is the power to change Fate, to transcend the wheel. Love is what gives meaning to Dust. Love is what makes the transient beautiful and, seen in the light of Love, even the sorrow of parting is poignant.
I remember you, even if I cannot recall your face. But I know I loved you when. I know there is something missing from my heart; I know what Love should be even though I have not encountered it yet. Surely, in some past existence, your heart and mine touched in such a way that we warped Fate. I will spend my existence searching for you, even if it sears in my heart such regret that I will never attain enlightenment, and never free myself from the wheel. Surely, even when I am reborn again, I will continue to search for you. My heart will call to yours, and my desire will rend the Heavens, and offend the Gods, and yet I will not falter.
I will close the distance, though it may take ages, between your heart and mine.
Timeless as light and shadow--no debt of breeze and moonlight can ever be repaid."
--Tsao Hseuh-chin, Dream of the Red Chamber
We are all bound to the wheel, our tears, our blood as red and transient as dust. Everything that is shall pass, and pass through and under and come back up the middle to occur again. Everything that is shall pass, and we too shall pass and die, then occur again, for we are bound relentlessly to the wheel.
If I meet you, and spend with you all of my days, inevitably my days will end. I will die, and the memories we have together shall fall away, slip like silk through my fingers and I will, bound by the wheel, be born again and should we meet again, I would not know you.
Yet...yet...Love, perhaps, can triumph over Fate. Love is the power to change Fate, to transcend the wheel. Love is what gives meaning to Dust. Love is what makes the transient beautiful and, seen in the light of Love, even the sorrow of parting is poignant.
I remember you, even if I cannot recall your face. But I know I loved you when. I know there is something missing from my heart; I know what Love should be even though I have not encountered it yet. Surely, in some past existence, your heart and mine touched in such a way that we warped Fate. I will spend my existence searching for you, even if it sears in my heart such regret that I will never attain enlightenment, and never free myself from the wheel. Surely, even when I am reborn again, I will continue to search for you. My heart will call to yours, and my desire will rend the Heavens, and offend the Gods, and yet I will not falter.
I will close the distance, though it may take ages, between your heart and mine.
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