It doesn’t know who it is.
There seems to be something, tangled up in the past turmoil of its once-mind, but too fragile to tear loose; tangled balls of fine golden chain.
It doesn’t know where it is.
There’s a floor, beneath the feet, a sky above the head, and some sort of road; it pulls.
It doesn’t know why it is.
But it knows it’s not alone.
The others push and scratch and claw and bite and pull, dreadfully, as the living, moving road stretches, beyond itself, and strays from the purpose it once had.
the past is forgotten.
forward.
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poetical!
ReplyDeletein a slightly confusing way.
dreamlike is perhaps the word.
fine golden chain: my favorite.
beautiful exercise in language; any enlightenment to offer to clarify depth/meaning?
I like it, but I don't really understand it. The wording is great and I like how you repeat a similar sentence over and over, its a very powerful effect.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful and poetic, and underlyingly somewhat grotesque in my mind. I'm not sure why. I agree with the "dreamlike" adjective.
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