Monday, December 19, 2005

Evening At The Fulcrum

Sunday, December 18, 2005
11:14:02 PM

They strolled along the woods with hands around each other’s waists, exchanging warmth, each step conjuring up romance, longing, and fear of the next step.

Left, right, left, right, left…

“How come we still keep pace with each other?”, he asked.

“No, no, no…this makes no sense…we keep pace with anybody we walk with…this is no magic…”, she answered, pulling him hard out of the deeply rooted illusion.

She pointed at the navy blue sky surmising the stars from the planets…

“Betelguese…Bellatrix…(ouch!)”, falling off ineptly as her feet met the uneven ground with friction and doubt. He held her firmly and resumed the consonance of their fateful steps.

“Mars and Venus…”, she concluded, as he pecked a swift kiss on her forehead.

The advent of dire consequences foreboding, the resplendent constellations rhapsodizing, she allowed the zephyr to alleviate any discordant thoughts. The tryst was about to end and they would soon be lost in their vapid worlds.

They have run out of soliloquies, confounded by the conundrum of surprise…There was no need to cogitate further; the end was about to emancipate from its diffidence…

The forlorn minds lingered along through the harrowing moments. The future was fraught with mist and the present was too abstruse…only the past remained diligently fluent and blissfully sanguine. Serendipity was fading away from their interface…lights no longer went off as they passed across light bulbs…not anymore.

“When can I see you again?”, she asked.

He was crestfallen, craven, debilitated to the size of raisins…He wanted to lament with music, lament with pain, anger and contempt…but it was too late…or too early, perhaps…She smiled at him with unknown foolishness, and they strolled along incessantly…


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Anonymous said...

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