MadameBastet-Firing-Neurons

And When You Die, They Will Say It Was Only a Dream

I swept down the emerald haunt, into the womb of a softer, stranger world. I slipped down rolling hills and dreamt of far away lands, the feel of silk in my weary hands, the taste of bitter teas amidst the dark spell of distant forests and trees. I stumbled across diamond flecked streets and I wept at the smooth, sad way sidewalks are paved in cities far, far away.

Yes, I dreamt of shops that sold shadows and pharaohs who were kings; I dreamt of gilded pyramids and unknown tombs, of rooms that smelled of lost, ancient lives and I dreamt of faces now gone, long, long gone. I watched the flicker of memory and caught the stares and smiles and mysteries that lingered in the still, warm, dusk air of the eons.

I closed my eyes and ran down avenues lined with a thousand palms, all swaying in lonely colonnades. I stood on the bitterly
cold shores of seaside towns and felt the cold winds rush down my spine and heard the lonely echoes of ships sailing off into the unknown and uncaring arms of the dead night.

I felt the shimmer and shatter of hearts across the years; of kings who fell and countries whose slow, sad descent began with some cruel, ambiguous sentiment. I dreamt of cities buried beneath grey ash; I felt the hands of strangers in dark and wet Paris streets and the soft caresses of London fog on my cheek.

I wept with Gods on my knees beneath gold mines, velvet jungles and blessed the hope found in trees still standing tall, swaying proudly in the balmy breeze. I blessed the radiant lush paradise and prayed the fires would not touch her; the sounds of footsteps and voices calling, the executioner's song would not be sung here in the very end.

I kissed my children a thousand times, in Bangkok streets and Italians piazzas, the Spanish steps slick with rain, we ran into a tearoom and I felt their gaze descend upon me as I walked past the ruins of ancient Rome, a dazzling terrain.

I opened my arms wide on the Acropolis and stood on the hill listening to the whispers of the men who built these great temples, now nothing more than ruins, but they came to me as the sun set and told me of Athena, her blessings and curses, and the rubble reassembled itself into shining, colourful structures...the ruins reversed and time perplexed and I bowed before the statue of the goddess and thanked her for Doric dreams and the cool feel of Pentellic marble in my hands.

I slept through the fertile promise of Nile Valley nights and wept with joy when the river overflowed; oh we have waited, we have waited, almighty Ra has blessed us again. I traveled in secrecy to Alexandria and shopped down long, hot sun-filled streets, with Greeks and Jews and Egyptians and Macedonians, the children and ancestors of Hatshepsut and Ramses and Tutankhamen, the daughters of Akhenaten, and their daughters, their brown skin blazing in the noonday soon, their eyes coal, flashing across me like I was some ghost.

I ate oranges in citrus orchards; I made love between the tombs of queens and listened to the echoes of my screams in the Valley of the Kings.

I sailed to the great promise called America and wept at the slaughter that lay before me, in century after century. I listened to tales of dying men and watched candles sway in hot humid winds. I tasted the salt of many oceans; seas that swallowed souls by shiploads down through time and history. I drank something cool with Minoan Cretes and lost myself in mosaic-covered streets. I wandered the breeze-filled hallways of Knossos and watched the azure seas in the distance. I was blinded by the light of a million souls circling in my mind; I ran down stairs and into the arms of shadows who offered me only a brief respite from the keening.

I only wanted to touch the soft skin of history herself. I walk streets now long since disappeared, smelled the winds of war coming off distant seas. I gazed into the eyes of men now just mere memories, and felt their flesh and held the hands that now lie still and cold in boxes of wood, tin, silver, gold.

I felt the breath upon my face of men who ruled the greatest kingdoms and built cities of glazed brick and gold with grandeur and glory. I watched my children play and thought, "You will be ghosts someday" and I heard the screams, the echoes of every yesterday.

I gazed at stars that had long since died, accepting their dead light in a universe of dark matter. I walked slowly through marketplace crowds who rushed by me, the whole grand promise of their lives stretched before them, the whole history of the world aching deep inside of me.

I sat on the steps of the Parthenon, I sat beneath olive trees and watched the sun bleed pink and purple and I screamed "These are not your days!" Some day they will be passed on down to me, through all of your children and their children and their children.

Oh god these are not your days but love them, long and well, look deeply into the eyes of those you love and adore, hold tightly the tiny hands of your children and swallow all you can, the cool night air.

And when you go West, let it go, let it all go. So I walk down these strange avenues thinking, you would not believe what your world is like now and someday I too will become a ghost. We are strangers now who merely pass each other through the long and winding avenues of history and time but someday we will travel to a place where the stars do not die, we are not illuminated with dead light, where temples do not decay over bitter cruel seasons and where the Gods are finally and truly and forever kind.

Photo: The Nile River at sunset, Luxor, Egypt