The bells were ringing again today. Sometimes distant, sometimes close enough to shatter my windows, they ring now more frequently than in the past. More urgently at times too. Crying wolf or just plain crying.
And me? I deftly avoid the airwaves that follow, hollow and loud. Despair? Apathy? The naive belief that everything will be alright? I do it all. Is there nothing left but to wait for the other shoe to drop, at long last, and let it be over?
Sure, there were times the bells tolled a story so contrived that it couldn't be true - it couldn't, could it? - that reached beneath the surface, briefly. But all things pass, do they not? Look at the greater picture, they say; it matters little.
The bells are ringing again today, recalling echoes of distant beacons that shone with promise and hope, and now crumble greyly, choked by vines and grime. Mocking, the sounds drift away, becoming blessedly muffled as I take another dose.
* This, for example.
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3 comments:
But the bells are getting louder all the time, they're never really going away. The fear is that by ignoring we may discover one day thesr were bells announcing the arrival of a cargo train. For us.
That was beautifully written, brother. Hang in there. And keep writing.
That was beautifully written, brother. Hang in there. And keep writing.
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