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Friday, April 14, 2017

Absurdist Fiction : The Meeting

I met her in the woods one day.She surfaced like a pain and an error,combined into co-planar serenity.She sat their,coiled like an old Banyan trunk and her hair framed her face like the aerial roots.The space between her bosom was a hollow light year's thirst and she turned around again and again,trying to grasp the history of the universe amidst the little circumcised space between her hairline and toenails.She was solace,she resembled eternity - yet,the wind shook her like the heart of a young sage on the path to the quest for truth.

I walked across her and noticed the timidness of lovers,paltry railroads and lustrous paddy fields,I even wrote a poem I think that I never could find again.She was absorbed in the pages of a slowly flowing dusk,an arena to behold - amidst the shoreline and the sandclock. I realised she was in search of a race or a gallow - I wanted to withstand the circumstances that would have arose hence but she took my breath away,and I swayed like a pendulum ; wishing to be engulfed and thrown around like a javelin at the same time.
I think I watched her look up then.She whispered something to the ears of the shallow evening and the drooping flowers.I was about to ask her of her whereabouts when she vanished in 
mid-air."What do you want?What else do you want now?",I asked helplessly.And she swirled across the breeze like a symphony
that resembled the sound of broken bells before turning the wheels that curtailed the length of my shadow,and off I went like a tattered kite.

Painting : Saint Briac by Emile Bernard
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