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A dream may be many things; it could hold a message of oncoming pursuits, maybe a scrutiny brought to mind of a previous day, perhaps fate telling of a life changing event, or possibly nothing sacred, just a passing story. Thoughts humor me as I find myself lying in bed with lazy eyes burning a hole into the blank ceiling. Paint, wood and all existing thereafter chips away revealing this…barren terrain.

Mountains line a dry, cracked earth like a fortress built to quarantine some dying energy. A desolate wasteland where passion once thrived previously played an elegant melody ever so softly as the wind combed the grasses lining the river. Memories linger of gently rising trees overshadowing the swift flow of water. Fish swam their lively course up and down like shadows darting behind a shattered mirror. Birds, deer and what other wildlife may have inhabited this formerly serene, beautiful scenery have since vanished, moving on…or dying.

No more. Not a single organic movement can be found. Even the beetles weaving a path through the broken dirt go unnoticed. The clouds sit, appearing somewhat stale in the coming twilight brought on by a tormenting sun. A glimmer in the distance faintly tracing a hazy trail gives a dazzling hope to my teary eyes.

While traveling toward this dying sparkle the scenery becomes more defined. Each step brings me stumbling closer to what may remain a glassy illusion that my hands will never grasp. Every strenuous beat of these soles reinforces a growing confidence, this is the right direction.

I drop to my knees, breathing stops while a tired imagination devours this ancient splendor choosing to reveal herself for the first time in many years. Human eyes remain the rarest of attractions in such a foreign environment. She rests, placid against the calming orange glow on the horizon. Reflections showing flawlessly, informing the world to the truth of what is and what should be.

The pool remains undisturbed by all but a gentle breeze caressing the surface showing to this realm. Droplets begin to form around her face, slowly uniting, becoming one with the consciousness held dearly. Expansion is certain, growth heralding forth integrity.

I bring myself to glance one last time at the footsteps left on the windswept plane. Bitter as the hell which brought me here, I close my eyes to that derelict panorama. Lids open forever more towards the swelling body. Aching limbs carry a restless soul into the glass and what is physical melts into the shaking reflection. One…last…labored…breath…and all I am, all I will be billows with the silent rebellion against false reality.

Purpose is the wall that no longer confines.


Siah Fade

Tacoma, United States

  • Artist

Artist's Description

I was inspired to write this piece after one of the most revealing conversations I’ve had thus far with Brinaka.

desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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