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Tag Archives: Absalom
Ent | Sunset | Reflection
Depending on how you look at the picture, you would either see the ent, or a sun and moon behind the mountains, or the reflection on water. And in each way, a different story is told.
Absalom’s Dying Rite
I tend to write about something before I even attempt to paint or draw it. This way I tend to get what images I have in my head out, and construct the creation out of that. For the Absalom series: It is a story about how a young boy had to kill his imaginary friend to become an adult. The reason for this is simply that you usually are not seen as an adult if you have your imaginary friend. In offering Absalom his last request, the imaginary friend requested for stories about the adventures that the young boy underwent.
As such, these are the stories of Absalom’s Dying Rite:
———————
Absalom you’ve been hiding away
Staring at me and hiding behind the walls of black text.
In this dream you’re sitting across from me,
but masks are the only things I can see of you.
A heavy cloak of black,
Darkness, dark strides. Absalom, you’ve been bleeding.
Those tears from your eyes.
Crying heavily, you can tell me my love,
Absalom, what are you hiding?
Why are you hiding, when I am here across from you?
You can read me and I will tell you my stories,
Each one. Every little thing. It is alright my dear.
I would tell you the story of the world.
My world, my dear. My twisted eyes. Of ferns growing
in the middle of the street. Of how people walk around
them and do not notice. How lovers walk hand in hand
and release their hands. to walk around a tree stalk and
then come back together but do not notice. Have you ever
thought about the nature of the world?
Why is it that we each see different things and call it
one name? Absalom, you’re crying again. Don’t fret it
is okay. You’re going to die soon, and your eyes are
closed. So listen to me please Absalom. Death is not going
to make you free. This story is.
Absalom, we are home.
————————
Home
Absalom, remember the street where we grew up?
The street lights used to turn on and off flickering.
Small gusts of wind blowing them this way and that.
And then the lights would bend and tilt like branches
on the tree. And the lights would shimmer in front of
windows of our home.
And home was that small bedroom for us. Remember
how we used to draw on the walls? You were not there
yet. There to guide my hand. As we drew on the walls
stars and stars that would glow in the dark. And then I
would close my eyes and open them in pitch black, the
sheets covering the windows. I was so small then, inside
the bed. Covers over me, giving me warmth. There was
darkness on the outside, that would reach and cover and
overlap and scare me like waves and waves. You didn’t
come yet. But that was my home.
I used to be afraid of the dark. You were not there yet.
You didn’t understand. How when I was small I believed
that there were only two ways to protect your soul. One
way was to sacrifice a small bit of it and seal off the room.
That wouldn’t protect me from the things inside it. One of
those things was you.
The other thing was for me to seal off my body and protect
me, but that would not stop me from seeing things and I
would become so afraid. So so afraid. And I would close my
eyes and close my ears and cuddle up into a little ball and you
would be next to me and you would speak small words into my
ears. And I would let go and let go, and come back and cover
my ears and let go and let go and come back and cover my ears
and finally let go.
And then you came into me and covered my eyes and helped me
see other things. Illusions of grandeur, illusions of make believe
homes. And I would leave you during the day in the teddy bear
form. Home was bigger than that. There were friends, outside.
And inside I began to build another form. An alter ego to protect
me from the world. Not false lies Absalom. Not false worlds. But
to protect me and I left you alone. And I as I lost my old home,
I found new ones.
And you’re sitting across the table from me, sitting on those few
books. You are going to die Absalom, as I take back my soul.
But I introduced you to him. The alternate me. Remember Absalom?
It was on one of the king roads.
———————
King Roads
Have you visited the King’s Road
my Love? A journey through the mirrors.
Treacherous roads, darkest of shadows
creeping or receding like.
Small tides. Black Tides. A forgotten thing Absalom.
The first time I came there was by
mistake. I held your hand, a long
wispy black hand that stretched further
than what the mirror would allow you.
I clambered on the dresser and fell into
the world. Strange skies with strange
stars. Absalom we came back together
hand in hand. Explored your world
properly. Remember?
I went there more by myself. I left my dream
there Absalom. I left him there to
move and go. And he told me about
a beauty. Some unknown goal hidden
in the books and books in the language
of dreams. And the books were filled
with corruption. Of kingdoms and empires
burning to find this being. Absolute
and deadly Absalom. Don’t blame me
for leaving you to go on the quest.
I learned so much without you my
love. I hurt you and explored the
world without you. And let me tell
you a secret, my dream. You cannot find
her, only parts. And we combine the
facets to create the being. Our imagination
killed the empires and Kingdoms, Absalom.
And that is why this search is for imperfection.
The search for my Lotidia.
——————————–
Lotidia
I have never told you about Lotidia, Have I Absalom? I was scared before to do so. You have always been the jealous one. Just like a woman who you tell is not the one – but insist of dating her anyways.
Lotidia is that perfect woman. I mentioned that earlier right? She is as real as that flower. As real as the notion of perfection. I have met facets of her on my travels. Away from you Absalom. The sets of universes I have made in my mind. Setting off like a god a single spark of existence. And from there I would speed up the time and watch the forms blossom and grow with the probability that one form would come out. And then he would visit them, like Zeus and the swan.
He would take those forms, the battle ready men and women and draft them into his collection. But there was another woman who would do the same, Absalom. Inara and Tenebrae – each depicting a good and bad. They would join together to form me, Absalom. My id and ego. The third part is Lotidia, she would be the last remaining part.
Absalom, have you ever seen their battles? They would wage wars so huge it is beyond the limits of my imagination. I would create a new dimension just for them, and all the facets would fight and die. And there was that chance that she would birth, and I would see this beauty called Lotidia. But it would be an illusion and fade away like a mist.
Absalom, stay awake my friend. Keep looking at me with those beady eyes of yours. It is not the perfection that I need, my love. But it is to collect the facets that tell me “Imperfection!” Imperfection! Imperfection! And with that, my love I could finally find true beauty bit by bit. I would collect the facets myself, and keep the memories safe with me and move on. And these collections would form and become bigger and grow. But in going through this adventure, my love, you lose parts of yourself on the way. And lose them, and lose them some more. It is in becoming jagged and jaded that we are lost Absalom. And that’s why I need you to become whole.
———————————–
Absalom’s Dying Rite:
Absalom, you’ve been given the dying rite.
Words as unfriendly as the man at night.
Street lights awake, twinkling slowly,
Flickering to make the beggars believe they are stars.
Absalom, you’ve been moving so slowly.
Through the pages of dreams unsure.
Would you like to stop a bit and drink a cup of coffee?
Tell me of the stories you’ve heard?
Absalom, you stand before the gates to
a force fed destiny. The stands of people
above you hold. Why do you not cry? My
dear dear Absalom?
Why don’t you cry, as fleeting as your life?
The streetlight flickers, Absalom, so slowly.
I never noticed it before. It is night.
Absalom, the morning comes and you
will not be here with me.
Absalom, goodbye and goodnight.
Daydreams that build Worlds 