I sat on the concrete steps leading down to the water; 4 steps down beyond the fence that frustrates fickle attempters. But even 4 steps down, the warm saltiness was still 4 meters away. The sea was Dead. And it was dying; the horizontal line of the water no longer passed through my perch.
Even beyond the fence, my attempt was still classified as fickle, there was a rough descent to the edge of the water that i was not willing to take. "It is too dark now" was my excuse "perhaps if it were still daytime i would". There alone, under the serenity of a starry sky, polluted by the loudness of misdirected light from hauty hotels, I wished i could cry.
The warm saltiness of tears has its way of washing away guilt and releasing a tank of emotions unfelt, that has unbearably exceeded its capacity. Like a hot shower after an hour of sports. But there was no warmth or salinity that night. At least not yet.
I woke up in tears. In my dream i had caught a murderer. I had to fight with him and overpower him, and drag him across the city to the nearest stronghold of justice. But as our journey progressed, and the first lights of the morning were beginning to break through, my strength, and my conviction of his utter uselessness to humanity, were waning. Through our journey my hate for him had started to dissipate, i could feel his anguish and participate in his conflicts. I had grown to love him. I was waking up. I had to deliver him to justice! But i couldn't, i just couldn't! But i just had to! I clenched the back of his worn yellow t-shirt inside of my fists and pushed my head in between, against his back. And i cried. Warm, salty water gently found its way down the valleys of my face and flowed into the dying sea that is me.
As i write this, strong winds are filling what was some 12 hours ago a clear sky with thick layers of dark forbidding clouds. Already the cold and pure water from the sky can be seen, reflecting off green leaves and black asphalt. Soon, it will find its way down the crevices and through the canyons. And into the sea.
5 comments:
and this, my friends, is not a figment of my imagination
i would love to understand the metaphor of the murderer......
isn't this the most complicated, confusing and mysterious post i've read in a while: yep!
but i think there might be a secret message that seems quite interesting.
anyhow, admirable post and nice imageries!
actually it isn't as mysterious as it seems....
it is something that really happened; literally...the metaphors are few and obvious...
it is generally about crying...wanting to cry and not being able to...
and as they say, dreams are wish-fulfillments...
as for the murderer..i would love to understand as well...it is how it was in the dream...
i think it has something to do with guilt...
"how happy is the blameless vestal's lot"
the warm saltiness was still 4 meters away
from washing the guilt
and releasing emotions unfelt
There alone, under the serenity of a starry sky
polluted by the loudness, I wished i could cry
But even 4 steps down
It was too dark now
through my strength, and my conviction..i believe in you!
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