Attention!

I would like to announce a very important piece of information that has just been uncovered while discussing the issue with my dear friend Jim: I can fly. For you see we were talking (emailing) about how penguins can't fly, but then it was realized that in fact they can. For they are the most beautiful and graceful swimmers and indeed do fly under water. Though I myself am not as graceful as a penguin when in the water, and I definitely wouldn't be if I was swimming in water of the temperatures that they do, I indeed can fly. Consequently I must now remove "learn to fly" from the things I need to do that is on my side bar. I must also remove "find time to read" for though I have not yet found time to read I have read the most lovely of books. If thou hast not yet journeyed to read the tale "Cry, the Beloved Country" thine eyes would be blessed to read it. Finally I must also remove the statement "practice gymnastics" for I have been doing that constantly in the most recent past.


This is a Narrative that I wrote after being uncesseful in turning my other "narrative" into an actual narrative. If you believe that you must indeed proceed to allow your brain to transfigured this typing into words within your mind, please continue.


(November 10, 2005)


Step.

The leaves are churning through the streets following my footsteps. They dart in front of and behind me continually, losing themselves in their play, and yet staying close as if for them separation from me feet would be to lose a glimpse of life beyond their own comprehension. Continual dashes of orange, yellow, brown and red are moving through the streets. Some ride the wind patiently and effortless moving through, and some rush among every person, pole, and car slowly passing through the streets looking for a place to rest as their final days come to a close. Through the alleys and on the grass they are thrown by the wind. They have companions in the trees still clinging as tightly as they can to the life giving branches that they have known for their entire existence. The grasp that holds them there is unwilling to let go of their homes. They will cling to life until they have no strength in them to stay any longer on the slowly chilling branches of protection. The evergreens begin their long farewell to their neighbors as the last of the trees begin to give up their leaves. They resolve themselves to wait patiently for the spring to bring new life to their balding friends. They bid them adieu.

Step.

The swiftly blowing wind curls around each corner blowing the ever-moving hair into my eyes. Through these strands I see the gentle sway of each blade of grass dancing in its place of honor next to the ash trees own bend and sway. They mix their songs: large, muscular, and slow; small, bending, and fleeting. The long branches are being pulled to the sky as they whisper and chatter to each other ignoring the steady rhythm of the wind moving their branches. The wind glances across the strings that play in the trees creating the music of elves. And the grass, it looks up at this great monument in amazement, while this great monument looks down at the swiftly dancing grass and sees itÂ’s marvelous beauty.

Step.

The flowers that still cling to life are mixed in with beauty of the leaves creating the mysterious fragrance that twists and turns in the same rhythm of the tranquil sky. They accentuate each other in the endless cycle of life and death. Beauty beheld in both the life that has already fallen from itÂ’s source of living, and the life that is still connected to the bushes that bring forth itÂ’s life. The upturned hands are waiting in expectation of the drops of life that will mean their time to fall has come.

Step.

The expanse above me lightens the earth through the clouded lens of it grey skies. The churning of white and grey mass colliding against itself, ceaselessly moving it is ever changing the tones and shades of the sky. The darkness and light continually battle each other for steady footing of which neither grasp a hold of. The extensive pallet of colors created by this violent battle is beyond any earthly artists abilities. The life that is moving swiftly through the air is played out in its colors. The clouds drive themselves through, content simply to be moving.

Step.

Step.

Step.