Dreams III - Fire
In the beginning, there was just me. Quietly being me. Satisfied that I had left childhood behind and that I had survived the random pitfalls of early adulthood. Confident that the world was out of control in its predictable way. Happy to let rogues and thieves beat up the rest of the world as long as my hearth was not crossed.
Then I became
aware of you. Loudly being you. Discordant and troublesome. Carrying the scars
of childhood in your ears, lips and cheeks. Angry with the world that failed to
live up to your slightest expectations. Uncompromising with principle, at the
front of every protest and barricade. A moth on fire.
We had nothing
in common. It was an error that we met. It was to spite others that we danced.
Our lovemaking was to prove earnest warnings wrong. Only in argument, could we
agree.
When finally we
quit the mistake we had become, we had both become different people. Now I held
the flag of revolution against everything while you sought the company of
wealth and power.
In that end, a
new beginning. For a time there was just me. Loudly being me. Angry with the
world, determined to reshape it first one way and then another. Learning the
lexicon of the rhetorician, believing in every new cause, and none. Warning
first of the approaching ice age and then irreparable global warming and then
just catastrophic change. Winning every argument by the strength of voice and
claims that my opponent was simply an adherent of reductionist reasoning.
Ignoring the quiet critique that behind the case for change there was no real
agenda, no economic plan, no concluded curricula of education, no road map of
infrastructure building, no understanding of how to get things done
differently. Just a misplaced hope that when we got there, someone would be
able to point to the chapter in those unrelenting political manifestos entitled
“What happens next”. But, the reality was, the writers never got there. “What
happens next” has never been written, just dreamed.
A couple of
years later we met again. This time with a smile in each other’s eye. I told
her that I blamed her for the sun rising. She blamed me for the rain in spring.
I blamed her for the touch of the wind. She blamed me for world poverty and the
erosion of political liberties and to stop that awkward truth from being told I
kissed her. We spent a winter locked in captivity together, loving and arguing.
But, when spring arrived, left in different directions, agreed that blame was
properly placed and that however much we might try, we could not be life mates.
So I began
again. I left the revolution behind in the hands of another angry young woman
who told me, as I left, that the last hurdle to the movement had finally been
removed. I did not ask the young woman what came next because she looked like
she knew.
I moved from job
to job. After a decade I ran far out into the countryside, into a farmhouse old
and battered. Somewhere to retreat from view.
As responsibility grew, I became more stressed, until I finally crashed. In the half haze of anti-depression drugs I kept trying, but starting to fail more often than succeed.
[prequel DragonsEye II]
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