Au bord de lac

Oliver Jones 19 November 2018

Au bord de lac

 

has anyone been so

isolated

with so much all around

 

Shimmering, sweltering, sodden

Encircled and entranced by entities imperceptible in record

Encumbered, for

 

The iridescence you will see is manufactured

mechanistic

I bade my dummy forge it from bitten silicone crackling inaudibly in the depths of ubiquitous grace

 

And it is better than the truth

 

isolated

with so much all around

 

And we were subsumed in hazy blue

Tried to blot it in vain with the darkest tints

 

And I love them and I tried not to be

isolated

with so much all around

 

So much that was fair and shimmered in a haze that I hated

An immensity hung draped on our shoulders

A cloak of transparency

A cloak that was in all things, a mist or miasma, washed-out blue

 

And I saw green pillars tunnelling into the depths

And I saw great swathes and mountains emerald

And I saw verdant legions milling in the anti-sky

And I thought them strong

 

But I saw mine own hands in their false grandeur

 

And I saw peaks so distant and noble that mists as broad as eons blocked them from view

And I saw their roots stretch upwards and claw achingly at the expanse

And I saw the cavernous hordes of white in their eternal processions

And I thought it beautiful

 

But they were artifice

 

Of Gaia’s own silicon