On the Second Day Yet
Greedy, the sky steals sunlight from the heliotropic sea.
— But are you not one in the same, only stated in different terms?
But Jeronathon’s word is His bond. In declamation, he recognizes anew the horizon, as if it were twilight. Treading water here, the dividing contrast is stark, but there towards the infinity of His perception, the ledger is cleared, and stares back at Him with its unitary and elemental eye.
And when He is there, the distinguishing scars are bold, the tipping points discernible to the touch. The touch. The touch…
The Continuing Story of The Mermaid and The Bird
Caution — Warning — Overload
Metric bypass computes on overload retrace
cause we’re
— Kool Keith, Lost in Space
He reaches to touch him, the illusory remnant of the blackbird in chains. The Mermaid squawks, and flippers rejoice at the listening into silence. He had not noticed her here, nor will he.
The ocean coos in murmurs, a dense congregation of beads, individuated but enlacing the corporeal hum of energy. She thinks she might burn in the sun as she drinks the oxygen of the sea and sky.
“My fins must be my flight!” She pleads with a curl of her pearlescent tail, flapping her upper limbs to mimic the arc of her winged compatriot, nae a bonny met a bonny comin’ o’er the rye. Or sleeping in the bog. (But soft, reader! That is a story for another day entirely.)
— For as high as he may soar, so deep can you… swim. And He suddenly wishes he had a more graceful word for her graceful dance. So deep can you fathom.
Coy as the horizon to the eye, she bats ‘My Hero’ lashes and flits upside down and fathoms a path to the heat vents at the bottom of her universe which abuts the top of the sky. And Jeronathon floats above the surface and heads magnetic North in search of something else.
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