A Silver Road


Down in these lower regions, there are towers of silver. The spiral staircases within lead to locked doors. We ate a small dinner of a grapefruit & examined again the pocket watch. It matches the emblem of the locked doors, and the hands within move rather more like waves than clock hands.


A desert of mirrors open up towards the sun. Reflections, memories, of what might have been. Lost in the heat, amplified by the mirrors, sweat sticks to your skin, then immediately evaporates as the dry heat sucks the water out of what little life and thought you have left. Yet within the mirrors, you see other lands. Reflections of other places. And, the desire for those places is so clear so close so intense, yet they are only reflections not the desires themselves. For, the desires have been lost in the intensity of heat that overwhelms and suffocates. Yet in the end purifies, as you lose all desire and are lost in the heat, the beauty of the reflected heat.