Songbird

Of all the irons in the fire, none is a priority with these shorter breaths for other strokes in the swim. Long ago, it was wished for being sentenced to, apprenticeship for life to highway truckers. Dreaming in case of a gypsy home. The wishing well, echoed then, “boy, fix these bricks and fast asleep, go home.” That night it was fancied about cowboys of heavens riding unicorns they were as they were -bandits, robbers, and many lovers. They did not stop talking about girls, singing like troubadours. Then I woke up to find a wretched guitar beside my bed. I realized what is nothingness then, as I learned if not for you, that’s where I should ever belong. No difference anymore, any stepping stone will do; papers, mirrors, and ears exactly are the biggest liars to tell a walking dead from alive, in somehow tolerated degree of routine disorder. Being non-existing to each other’s eyes means that we’re just invisible in the best of cases, felt concrete, escorted, led by streams of each other’s breezy aroma. It occurred to me as I gulped the first swallow, to listen to the Song*, I placed the album from the beginning, sipping the yet to be made DIY moonshine. As reaching the song I began seeing that very everlasting girl of you, hand in hand walking, staggering over the stepping stones hopping and running along the bottom of the summer’s valley. Right, and left heights were clearing the way with the properness courtesy of inquiring about our destination and their other suggestions if we would like to go. “Any reconciliation with this reality will do,” we said muting our jeering laughs. They set us at once to a scene of hut camp village, where a few kids wearing nothing but skin short-likes, gathered around a circle drawn about a vertical stick with an old man talking earnestly while he was signing towards the sun and its stick shadow drawing curves around its center. “this is sundial gnomon reading course,” said our tour guide as he laying a stone for us to ride. It took us through some woods to a bank of a big river unknown to me, she shouted with cheers, “oh Lord, it’s the Mississippi,” just as she started her shivers of meeting a darling after a long time, unconsciously I’d been bound to kneel and kiss the soil, but I checked my humiliation back at the last moment. Across a rural road behind us, there was a bar with ‘Around the Hour’ large sign. We were overwhelmingly charmed by the gardens around the place as he took us to a strange looming like a car park. By their shape, the vehicles did not look like cars at all, besides they appeared instantly all of a sudden and disappear also, to and from a nowhere vacuum. We stared at each other, terribly, turn to him interrogating, “this is a public 4-D Transportation Park, do you want to try a ride!?” It was such an embarrassing and boring awakening of feeling strangers, in the present, past, and future… While we were conferring, a slide into a random stone threw us at once to among hundreds of audiences all over grandstands, yelling, cheering, cursing, and spatting down at, to a group of men and women huddled up to face what’s just released, brutal creature. Large crosses were obviously seen painted in the front of their garments as they stood full of confidence and unmistakable pride to challenge the starving lion. As there was no previous plan for the battle, the ones who stood men and women improvised and acted like each one is the only responsible of every other of the group, armless but for their faith. The senator afar was shocked to stand up also under his shade to see the one who received the beast looking at him eye in the eye dispersing the two limbs’ claws into both sides avoiding the wide-open jaws, while the others jumping to his back and sides. A woman had a chance to pierce his eye with her unbelievable jellylike fist then the other. The monster had gone much more furious but blind this time he roared and span until exhausted and crouched a still. Two dead, a few others wounded the rest of the group crossed and prayed for them, for the dumb audiences all around and to all those who should be on the right too. “This will be Holographed hundreds of times again. Now it is me to suggest, be my guests,” He said. Just as soon as it opened up, he unexpectedly cursed and we laughed about what was happening, “it’s the guards taking a criminal to his fate.” We couldn’t help blinking for our eyes kept piling on compound multipicture on one sight, “you might like to close your eyes if it got annoying,” also sounds, and adorable smells. “It’s a good thing being appreciable and appreciated to ancestors as descendants as well. This is my world, a humble home universe of a humble descendant; welcome, my remote great grandparents!”

..* Christine McVie’s of Fleetwood Mac: Rumors