Red Beryl was a weathered person. Her face a road map of lines, detours and traffic jams tracing over 9 decades of journey. In her younger days she was a slow slinky rhythmic Fandango dancing men into dusky graves. She was a rollicking river sweeping away numerous suitors and lovers. Wanton abandonment coupled with Hades ovens gradually over time turned to Holy Water Baptism. As her flower faded she was at first angry with the code but who can be angry with code you did not program? Many family, friends and neighbors had gone to the Whispering Shadows. Others exuded aromas of angst with madness quickly gaining hold. Losing altitude she quickly realized that the light at the end of the tunnel had been turned off due to non-payment.
Or was it the pursuing Restless Womb syndrome of she who was barren from birth? Many seeds were deposited but none took root save for a few mud-bound mannequins laid waste to premature graves. Lamentations by and for all my graces and muses relegated to being communal property for every feudal chieftain and Lord. Yes the Light at the End of the Tunnel has been extinguished. The Bright Colors are the Facades we create for ourselves much like the Prisoners Village.
Tapestries woven upon a drop stitch broken Looms. Writhing Thrusting old bones from towns and villages. Old ear and nose whiskers, balding craniums energetic like lusty youths waving Turgid Stamens yet failing to pollinate eager expectant eggs.
Red Beryl clad in long free flowing Caftan that swirled breezing about her body’s ebb and flow. She possessed boundless Galactic spaces inside her head. She shook her meager cloak releasing rainbow dust, moon beam fibers, and robust grains. For she be a Chimera creature housing two different DNAs. One for the mind and body the other for the spirit and soul. Traveling through fields of purple grass, clovers and dens. Sidestepping towns and villages populated with radio bursts. Anxious to avoid another century decades of wandering in Limbo she hurried to the place where the Trees Meet at the Sacred Grotto. Greeting the fog, mist and smoldering embers Red Beryl quickly gained entry to Nomadic dreams and Discourses.
Before my startled eyes the Chime Keeper began to morph into a series of anthropomorphic and bio-morphic shape shifting beings.
Manifesting an enormous ruby red burgundy apron he thrust his hand into one of the side pockets and quickly anointed both of us with glitter gloss granules.
Clocks of all shapes, sizes and from all time periods. The noise of all these clocks chiming gonging and announcing the hour, half hour and quarter hour was deafening.
Most mysterious was the clock with no hands nor did it issue the time verbally, well at least not out loud. It’s claim to fame was to change colors or filters every quarter hour along with a persistent hum that reached into your brain and pulled onto your cerebral cortex.
“This my inquiring student is where we program sent souls with their finite time. Meaning the time allotted them on earth before they return either to eternity or annihilation.”
How can energy pure energy be annihilated I calmly asked?
Some rue the day when earthly clocks and calendars stop, for some a new start into another life, then for the truly evil, wicked, sociopaths whose souls cannot be redeemed they are cast into outer darkness hearing only wailing and gnashing of teeth well aware of others but unable to communicate in this limbo abyss.
I felt like a Debutante late to the ball. Rushing forward with profuse apologies I curtsied to the elegant cake.
As the Chime Keeper would say, “Humans are just bags of fleshy molecules filled with wanton desires.
Elegance and Decadence. Deference to old style Aristocracy Aristocrats. All Hail the Landed Gentry but Sir Death takes them all!