Near the end we find a scattered light between the gathering clouds
falling across the yellowing concrete like a memory of a former time
or a glimpse of the way out
On the other side of the world it seems an old churchbell still rings
on Sunday mornings and one remembers what it was like
to sing a hymn in the light of the stained glass windows
A girl wearing a face mask crosses the street
and stands on the far corner for a moment
running her fingers through her hair
A violinist playing on a recording of Beethoven or Brahms
recalls the memory of the orchestra in Carnegie Hall
curling the air like the curlicues on the carved balconies
and the chandeliers and the way the audience sat together
holding its breath, listening to the music
While the moon drifts overhead
In between the telecommunication spires
While people walk over the Brooklyn Bridge
out of the silent city and on to somewhere else
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Author Notes
I wanted to capture a sense of nostalgia for this world, to capture the memories of we have of the world we enjoyed here. It is not a perfect world, but on the edge of leaving it behind there is a certain sadness to leaving behind the things we loved about it, the moments we celebrated in it. At the same time, I wanted to create that sense of movement on to something else, something we can't quite grasp in our dimension, we don't understand with our limited experiences created in this world.
A side note; my time will be very limited here for a while. My father suffered a stroke a couple of weeks ago, he will be coming home, and I will have to help out with his care at home. I will do my best to post and review, but it will be limited. estory
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