"Image" by Kimberly A. Bennett (a.k.a Moon_Fox)

   "Feel me. Hear my eyes when they fall on you." :

   She saw forever with eyes that were endless. The depths could not be acknowledged. Pain was the result of a quick gaze into the knowledge and infinity. She awoke to thunder in the morning. Cozy, breathtaking, so much pleasure in the earth's heart beat. Her eyes were that of a flowers vein. Her hair and skin were envisions of a faerie's glance within enclosed flowers, asleep beneath the moon.

   She swam in the rain. Cried her own sorrows and begged to feel again. Despising the reality that rest had forgotten her. Walking all over her. The idiots taking the job she once had. She wanted to work! She wanted to play, and love! No, not that.

   Love. Oh, how wonderful it had sounded. How truly sick she was hearing of it. Remembering it. Competence was clouded by mist at such reminiscing. She does not want the world to know her. They would not see here for what she was. They would get lost in her eyes and forget her. Her language is foreign. They would not hear her voice that sang with the whales.

   The solemn wailing of one of the most shrilling sounds. Striking the very essence of life and deeper. The fabric of souls ripped, cold, enlightened. The music that reminds the audience of depth, darkness, beauty, mystery and death. It is the embodiment of the stars in sound. A melodious pierce.

   An azure fluttering of feathers; shrieking and screeching is shame. Disappointment crying from the perfect golden bars, shivering with an echo of sorrow. A chattering clap of a caged Quetzal bird chiming his own opinion. This was the end, the finale of an explosion of brilliant fireworks. A life bursting free from one instant. Growing more beautiful, more colourful, and more amazing! Then slowly wilting as the flowers do. Drooping, still colourful, until the last dried brown crisp is crushed! And the fearie dust is flying, far more distant than the body has ever gone. Taken in that one instant as in the beginning..

   Time is a circle looping all events together. Split second decisions that end or begin a life time. Or never begin or end anything. Existence is a human conception. Perhaps the dust is existence, the spark was always there. Consciousness is only something not understood when conscious, but fully explained otherwise. Limits do not exist. Depth is perception only. Perception is not a true word, but perceptions are. The caged woman, the caged bird, they knew this. And so would they if they saw her eyes, the perception-less, timeless, unconscious eyes!

   Colour is there, but not to those who look with eyes. The words are spoken, but no one will hear with their ears. Mind over matter, but it didn’t matter now. She was fooled, and once chose matter over mind. Not forever, but still forever. It was a trap for a mouse, and a mouse is matter. And he was matter, and conscious.

   The excuses were traditional. The same fairy-tale, but with a strange twist. A painful twist, the sharp reality flung in their faces after the fairy-tale happiness. All drawn back into love. Heart wrenching love, but does she regret it? Would she have answered the question differently if she had known....

   “I love you.”

   “Would you give up eternity for me?”

   Curse those words! But she did, and he did. She said yes, but she was wrong, he was wrong, they were all wrong! Except for the feathers, one who is trapped knows everything. She understands this now. His shrieking, a warning she did not listen to. He was caged behind golden bars, a luxury! Prison is the predictable word most often used. But this was torture. Freedom should not be fooled with, once it is given and misused, there is no taking it back.

   “Yes.”

   Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! The Shakespearean way of it all. He couldn’t have written her life better. Happiness, sure. With him. She was to be with him for eternity. Be with his eyes that never changed with age. Be with those arms that held her close, and his lips that kissed her. Not separated by a wall of dirt, consciousness, and false dreams.

   All the nightmares in the world she knew of. Her eyes knew of. Her voice wailed them, in the sea, in the trees, in her eyes. Past all of the darkness...but they can’t get past the darkness. He couldn’t get past the darkness. He was stuck in darkness and so was she. And so were the feathers.

   Happy times. No curse, no blessing, no love. No, there must be love, those were the happy times. Curse the stars for they are immortal. Bless the stars, for they are immortal. Love him. Hate them. Damn loop holes! The stars aren’t meant to be governmental, but they are meant to be Shakespearean.

   She was blind, with her all knowing eyes, she was blind. To the only thing she should have seen. Image: Beauty. An Angel of Immortal Darkness, piercing, all knowing blind eyes. Dancing in his arms, gazing, or glaring at the endless, through the endless. A monster shrieking behind perfect golden bars. Feathers dancing around them... perfection. Image: Nightmare. A Demon of Immortal Darkness, piercing her heart. Her love, an Angel of Whiteness, stained by her, her by him. A wise man trapped behind perfect golden bars, whispering. Feathers withering, crumbling, crushing...perpetual.

   Image: Endless. An Angel and Demon of nothing. One Conscious, the other dead. Screaming with her all knowing eyes, but dead and conscious. A Quetzal bird in her arms. An old man and an old, young woman separated by Earth. She did not give up immortality, but life. A stone above her, written words are not enough....crumbling. Image: Sorrow. Folded bones across her wise monster bird. Hollowed eyes crying of separation and deception. Shivering with sorrow. All trapped by perfect golden bars.