Lucidity

I wrote this back in 2018, and since then it has remained the work I am most proud of. It draws upon the themes of the books I found deeply influential as I came of age, especially A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, L’Etranger, and Paradise Lost.

The exact feeling of those quiet moments of peace are lost to me, but they echo around me nonetheless. In those quiet moments, I find myself suddenly uprooted, drifting between realities. The tangible world laid before me recedes into a wash of lucidity, grasping me. In those moments I become aware of the wanderlust that grips my slumbered heart. I feel but a shadow cast upon the veil, no more, no less. As I walk these distant shores, my heart is carried off with the breeze. In the instants between each breath, I can hear the songs of the sirens drifting across the waters. Each note assaults my heart with a homesickness for the land I’ve never laid eyes upon, yet felt within the gentle murmurs of the minutes that drift me off to sleep. These are the way of dreams, beyond the misty horizon. In those moments, I can almost taste the salty spray of the waters crashing upon its shores. Caught in the endless drumbeat of the ocean waters upon the sand, I can almost hear their cries; the voices of the moments whence worlds unfurl all their beauty before the naked eye. Those endless shores of sand and water, manifest in the whispers of a sacred song, or the gaze of an angels eyes. Dreams of wings and wax, rising towards the sky.