(In a Trance, 2011)
This wall will fall. And when it does I hope it takes everything with it. The people surrounding it will be engulfed in smoke and will lose touch of security and find themselves naked. The world will seem new and although only just a simply wall fell everything will be completely different. In the time of leaping horses and raining frogs we carry the burdens of yesterday. To which and to why is a question beyond our understanding. The modes of survival have made us and form the very reason why we are standing today. But what I propose is an alternative in which we abandoned any form of safety and where we set ourselves free of any security. Let the wall fall, let our voices return to us as if we were reborn. And perhaps that is exactly what it is, to be reborn for not a chapter to be simply turned but a completely new book to be made before our waking eyes. I grow mad with furious each and everyday I let myself place another brick on the wall. And as I look up the tower I had made around my body I see a faint light of the day. I want fire I want the mightiest of guns to come smashing it all down. I want to cry for a moment as I watch all that I had made in careful measurements and exactness to be rendered into rumble and for rumble to be turned to dust and dust to float and flutter far away.
The oceans turn and the tides come in and roll away what was left behind. The moon hovers above and I am taken to a time when palm leaves cut the silence of the evening with a dance of the coming of wind. The world is not complete darkness but it is very close to it. All the traces of humans are gone as I sit before an ocean swell. The ripples covered darkness tipped with moonlight and everything around me would be fine if I disappeared. I dig my bare feet into the soft moist sand and watch the approaching tide come closer. The air is hot almost sticky and the taste of sea gathers in my mouth. Many memories roll pass me and I remember them all being alone; sharing a moment with the moon; and being under its power. The clouds roll by and pass the full moon. In an instant they are illuminated like ground glass before a bright light and the bridge between reality and dreams is blurred and obscured. That's what it is, the moon, a bridge between one world to another.
On somedays I am surprised to see the moon high above. I can't help but feel like the only one that sees it there in the bright and clear sky. It followed me outside of a dream-like scene and is there to watch over me. Its hovering presence is there to remind me that my reality isn't any more real than the night before. Its glow is absent and yet it still holds some power over me. Confused I sit and reevaluate my memories. If it wasn't for photographs I'd lose touch with what happened in this world and what was a dream. A collection photographs with a white sphere hovering in the sky, clouds in blur, and little of the moon's surface detail gather dusts in a box somewhere in storage. I used to be obsessed with capturing the moon many years ago and I wonder what has changed. Perhaps after many failed attempted I gave up. That I came to realization that there are somethings that I cannot capture with any device but my memory. And rather than scrambling to retain as much detail as I can of a moment I should let it pass by as I enjoy it to its fullest. The grip in my hand eases and eventually lets go and the memory passes by floating, drifting, hovering away. Without a goodbye and without a look back it disappears. All I am left with is a feeling and a sequence of events that slowly dissipates from my recollection.
There are somethings I never want to forget -things that are so beautiful they seem to make the everyday feel unreal. There are moments that capture the soul that hold the power to take the individual away from whatever it is he or she is doing and leave (without a second thought). Like a flute with magical powers we can be lured into a moment just as a the moth flutters to the light. And perhaps it is that we have been waiting for that very moment to arrive and when it happens you could be sure as hell we will not let it pass without us being caught in its storm.
The full moon approaches and I wonder if this moment which is before me now will also be like the memories of all full moons, watching it alone and isolated somewhere on earth and somewhere high above floating amongst the clouds. The stars tinkle and the glow of the moon bridges the gap between one reality to another. And when the sun comes burning through the darkness it will all be over. Or will it.
The wall is still standing but for how long I am uncertain. Perhaps something will appear from the darkness and take the form of a wrecking ball. They will, "OH YEAH" their way through to the other side. And as they make their grand entrance what their face look like, will they be a stranger or friend, will they be happy or sad, or nothing at all. The words, "Take me away to a moony full and await the days to come..." appear on a single brick which has escaped total destruction.