A Murdered Mime

to the bone redo

Today I sat with Kierkegaard and Tolstoy… Nietzsche was there too… as was Plath, and Woolf.  And just like we were all old friends we sat and talked over my afternoon tea and a contemplative smoke.  And together we wandered in the malaise that was, and is, life.  And I wondered at all the brilliance, despite the darkness that seemed to haunt every thought, as well as the darkness that lingered… despite the harsh afternoon sun.  And well… I saw then… all of them… the paths we had yet to wander, and the thoughts we had yet to ponder… and yet… in the seeing… was utterly devastated.  For I saw then, what I had ever-refused before, a path that led you not here, to my waiting door… oh, how I had thought… and in that surety knew… what our eager hearts would do.  But this… this bitter consideration was something new.  What then did my aged advisors tell me to do?  What conjure did they claim would ward-off this devastating blow?  Why… they were as dumb and as deaf as a murdered mime, and their words rang with the hollow bitterness of time.  But in their silence gave… a much-needed clue.

 

La Fée

 10/03/2018

 © Odyne La Fée 2018

 

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