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Point of View 1
by
Michael Walker
January 2000
A semblance of me exists in his mind, but mostly
he forgets and is fooled by fear. He thinks that I have somehow abandoned
him, that I am soured like milk, or wrinkled and old. Everyday he looks at
himself in the mirror and mistakenly thinks that what he sees is my
reflection, but he is wrong. Even on good days, when he charges down the
street with passion and heat, Joe forgets that I am charging with him,
that I am his ever-present heat. It is only when he is feeling run down
that he remembers to think of me; only when he is despairing or blue.
Why does he forget that I am changeless? Why does
he insist that I am somehow tied to his mortal coil, adhering like glue
that will not loosen? Oft, I nudge him devilishly, saying "Your Earth
suit is so fragile, Joe -- why not cast it aside and fly with me
forever?" He thinks this is Nietzsche talking, or Satan, and throws
extra money at his psychotherapist. He therapist, who does not know
better, encourages him to take pills and record his dreams.
But his dreams are my fancy and his hopes are God’s
will for him. Joe, no doubt, will comprehend this when he is lying pale
and parched on a bed of wild flowers, his coffin door ready to be hammered
shut. Then, when it feels to him like it is too late, he’ll feel my
presence as strong as he did the day he tasted his first rain, the time he
saw his first sunset, the moment he felt his first true love.
I am Joe’s soul and he knows that death will
never sever our relationship. He knows in his heart that youth and vigor
are his forever and that only his body will perish. And, though the words
of others cause him to be dubious about this fact, Joe will eventually
understand and believe; even though he is patently aware that he has to
die in the process.
-- 30 --Back to
writings contents
Copyright © 2000 by Michael Walker
Michael Walker is a freelance writer in Washington, DC. He is also the founder
and proprietor of
DREAMWalker Group.
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