posted on Feb, 3 2019 @ 08:32 AM
I took a flight from London to New York once, and we took off at sunset with the sun just about to drop below the horizon. It stayed sunset the whole
flight - we must have been travelling the same speed as the earth turns in her orbit around the sun, and it was like we were travelling through the
magical cloud lands of Magonia where always it is perpetual twilight and a greenish tint permeates the atmosphere, church bells can be heard on
occasions far away, I remember how we used to tend our cows in the emerald green pastures, so long ago it were, when we strayed entranced and
entangled into the upper world our cow's bells and those what we came to our misfortune to know as those of the church and we came upon, a crowd,
they came upon us, they were as ghosts and we as the green verdant of springs etched into our skin, our eyes glowed with the hubris of enfolding buds
of primrose and hyacinth - it is how we learnt of desire in your world, and the inevitable decay that results from such, the passage of the seasons,
the cycles and rhythms, obliquity and iniquity both lovers and co-conspirators simultaneous with the ecliptic and the music of the spheres.
Which I may hear on occasions when I dream idly of the eternal spring time that was our home once in St Martin’s Land - and when I listen how I wish
that I could return there one day. That I could be forever young and never winter’s cruel frost touch my sweet innocence again.
...When we landed, night fell quickly as for a time we were held in customs, such as they are on arrival in a foreign land. And I wondered at how
quickly the darkness descended soon as I'd to rouse myself from my half-wake and sleeping reverie aboard the restless plane.
And I thought to myself, how ironic that time should still as we hurtled through space, and then regain its composure in the stasis of the bagage
And how strange the dreams contained therein - I swear I dreamt it was the spring time a'ready and winter's bane'd been banished evermore.
Well, I hope was just a dream, though it seemed most real, for if not the autumn winds and winter freeze then joys of spring and summer haze will with
them find no more in the void that we used to know, as the eternal passage of Time.