my fetch and i
something i made at 3 am from the content of my dreams...
I dream of wayward gulls and all landless lovers, rare moments of winter sun, peace, privacy, for everyone...
William Francis Claire
where are the things i was promised? when they told me i could do anything, when they said that in the future things would be different...i have had to lessen my dreams until they are a tiny, trembling vapor of hope clutched in one defiant hand because of them..they who caused me to dream so high! and now my soul is lost, eternally lost, left floating and crying sadly out above the world, and i can’t get it back, it’s gone, it’s forever lost in the faraway reaches where i cannot follow because i sent it off with bright hopes of joining it someday..and i am left despondent below, left to wander about the earth without that part of me because it dwells in far happier lands where it rains and shines and loves and hopes and dances with butterflies, but i’ll never get it back. i’m left soulless, dreamless, because they consumed me and left me and i cannot follow where they lead. this is not the future. this is just the interruption of the past...
Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men.
Zora Neale Hurston
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