The Window on the West - Part 3: Ode to the Window

[The third part of it all, I am forever beholden to thee.]

Ode to the Window

Ah, the sea of dreams. 

A young boy stood on the edge of Time, and gazed out wonderingly.

It’s been so long since I’ve these silent breakers roar. Gazed into the multifarious undulations of mystery that roll along this colourless hearse.

Pink and blue, with leaf green whiskers and snatches of despondent grey, danced where there should have been waves. The boy tried to find the sky, but it was all too beautiful. Too fleeting to try. He felt himself forgetting.

Is this it. Or has every journey been doomed since the Beginning.

A beast of a whale broke through in the distance, the gulls scattered, and the golden albatross shrieked, flying higher. Away, and away, and away.

Such sweet music.

The skylight open above me

The ship ready for its captain

I mourn the death of beauty, of Art and illusion

And miss the last train home.

Feels neither long nor short at the end

The fray’s the thing

Misunderstood Art, from now to eternity’s draw

The fray! The fray! All that I desire is with thee.

Can you give life where there is none. Can ya, punk? Plod through autumnal woods like nobody’s business. The quicksilver flight of the heart when my fickle fancies be met. People. People all around, and just them. To seek, and never to yield. The fray, how can you seek me?! I am a child of the Window. Yet, there is no life without Death, no art without Death, and nothing without the Window.

Yet you beckon me, you all-encompassing fray. To your open fields and sunburnt earth and placid grey and dearth of memory and windowless sky will I go. Ere the end, you will have me yet.

Thou Window, thou beauteous Window

How long have I gazed upon thee

Waited for the sun to light up behind your wispy veils

Waited for the next when there was no now

Waited for the truth to strike me

For revelation, salvation and being

Yet waited in vain.

From the long limbs of fatigue to days of unbridled youth

I have waited, and sought thee

From ages my simple mind could never have imagined

To people who linger not forevermore.

From fields that cried for me when Ague’s ghastly grasp had me in her stride

To the turning of the Zeitgeist, as I gazed and left well alone

To sights and sounds that my mind will know later in the day

And to the West, where I must go!

The boy wanted to go on. But there was fear meddling up the wonder. Was he not master of his own heart? His own mind? To seek?

The gentle winds of time have rubbed me a-right

Through even the tears have I persevered,

Through red foliage of autumn and days of the winter moth,

Through the rain that gently smiles,

And the stark cold that show no mercy.

Through the drabness of summer,

And the innocence of storm,

Through times I have been one with the Consciousness and more!

From now to way back when,

Ah, for the Window on the West! How long have I yearned for thee!

How long have I waited to cast mine eyes on thee!

Thou accursed, lovely window, I’ll look through thee yet!

The boy turned as I turn now. To pursue the basest and noblest of desires, if there be such things. Maybe tomorrow, said the boy, and ere today, say I!

The Window on the West - Part 1: Taking Leave, My Monsieur

[So, living up to my name, I've been doing that ol' rambling lately. Mostly to procrastinate from exams. And yeah, mostly that. However, I have whipped up something, so I'm a-gonna make a post about it. It happens to be this short story called The Window on the West. And it shall duly be posted in the five cantos that comprise it. What, I'm allowed a touch of pretension, aren't I?!

So yeah, this is the first part. I hope you enjoy it, you random internet dweller, you. At least a little bit? Ah well.]

 The Window on the West 

Taking Leave, My Monsieur

I have traversed the entire universe for this. Broken through bounds known by no man nor god in the search of travels. Nay, adventures. Nay, madness and wandering, timeless and happy. And thus, I return to the wastelands that yearn for me. As I yearn for it.

How long have I looked, how long have I searched. Is it a dash of insanity that is customary? Reveries, the lot of them. That great beast of iron rears up, hissing with venom and charm. The sighs of men and women all around, the relief, the momentary flutter of their hearts, for life will carry on with clinking clockwork. I board the beast as the smoke engulfs me. I am the smoke. Wispy. Peaceful. I float downstream without a care in the world. And then struck by the meteor! Shattering of sanity! You knave, you - you villain from behind the Veil, give it back to me! You will not plunge me into darkness yet.

A cry of a bird wakes me for the last time. Infinity draws to a close. My friend, my raven, what do you do, dallying on the line all day. Do you see the grey skies of the Big City? The shimmering of clotheslines that last but an instant? The loveable ants speaking to each other in thoughts only the wind can read, as they walk on down the road. Empty seat. Grab it. The race begins. Flash of dazzle. Mundane gleam of gold. The window goes by, beast whirs to life and…away, away it whisks.

The Window!

Ah, my soul! The Window!

Do not! Not yet.

 

Let me in…cried the butcher’s boy. The cry of the motorcar haunting his dreams. There is no escape from this hell. I have crafted thee to perfection.

Dark star, give life to the forsaken heavens above!

Swing by the holding bars. One to the other – hop and skip, swing with a dee-daddle in your legs. Like a lilt on the breeze that the moth rides upon tonight. Out we go into the maze of life. The Humanity rises in cuboids all around me. Houses of dreams and nightmares in equal measures, who am I to look beyond your veil into the alleyways of your soul. 

Coffee. Black. Hail the cab. The carriage. Good morning milady. Wherefore does this bright day draw you forth? Speeding across the highway. Ah, the wait is misery. Who am I. Back to the sea must I go. The waves, crashing and swamping in a torrential fury that mirrored the other-self. Azure, though. So blue, flat and deep. Its circles of wealth and understanding is where the journey lies. Such azure, under skies of gold. This is my homeland, ma. The Window on the West, have I found thee yet?

The seas that I have seen

Time, the greatest of them

 

I counted them today, as yesterday

On the fingers of my toes

Hum. Hum. Hum. Mhmmmmmm. The sweet lilt of jazz. Tap those feet. Straighten that tie. Hat, check. Professionally walk into an elevator. Or is that a lift. Caesar cares not! Elevator music. Tring-a-ding. Reach the top floor. Top floor, you say, my old chum. There are floors toppermost than your dreams would lead you to believe. Horatio and all that sort of thing. Never shy away from the heart. You’ll always be a schmucky adolescent anyway.  Wait, zoom back. The universe awaits, Master. You say, are you ready for adventure? Hang on a mo-

Yes. Done deal. All business ready for the shipping docks, monsieur? Good day to ya, and let speedboost be banished. It’s time I headed out. The purple Wild, in its early autumnal bloom, and the wildflower so sweet – ah, so sweet! – there shall be the meeting place. The Romance of our times, acted out against the shadow of the Leery One and victory will be Time’s and Time’s alone. But to escape the machine. Boy, I tell ya.

The Window on the West, on the edge of the Sea, I shall seek thee yet.

A Parabola at the End of Time

Here's a nice lil' ditty I whipped up during today's maths lecture, while the rest of my mind meandered along the boundaries of double integration.

A lone chrysanthemum stood,
In those desolate fields,
Greeted the weary traveler
As though an old friend;
"Hark," quoth he,
or so thought the traveler.
He knew no better,
that blinkered soul,
for he was the Man from the Parabola.