The hands slip away, I reach out for them
I lingered here too long. Should not have stayed
Drowned in the pleasures of the senses.
The spinning in my head, I wish I’d not made the mistake.

I am reaching, the pale skin of the hand, its cold, I crave it.
Its moonlight, casting into the clouds, creating a halo in the sky.
It’s the daylight, a cross born on the messiahs back,
It’s the inverted space, where the neither light nor dark reaches, disparate colours fringe its edges, but I cannot be sure of its centre.

The fingers are long, I brush them aside,
I don’t need this now, leave me be.
Lake and reflection,
I am afraid of what will I see if I peer over the edge of the rock.

This forest will take me somewhere.
I know this, as I touch the trees, I feel the ages,
The sweetness sinks into my skin, invading all my senses.
Eager, I quicken my step; I will follow this path,
I am so close now.
The deep scent is there, I will find it

The hand claws at my wrist, the nails biting like teeth into my skin, I am bleeding
The music is clear. He watches me with curiosity and I glare back at him, secret-whisperer that he is.
“You listen to the sounds, and feel them in the beating heart of others”, he begins.
“You draw them about you twisting them. Do you realize what you are destroying? There is an old harmony that you are crushing; you are breaking the things you hold dear. Even if it is not your want, it is your will. Let go, sometimes that path is too long to follow”. He ends his speech quietly. A warning to me and what runs in my blood. He is at peace with the nature of all things, including my own turmoil. It sickens me.
I smell the smoke in my shaking vision. Everything blurs. I feel it in the animals crashing about; they are attuned to something that is fierce. I can taste it, it makes me feel alive. Fool old man, curse you secret-whisperer. I lash out with all my venom. I kill.

As the light that dances on the surface begins to sink away.
The water that is blue,
Churns with the water that is black, bleeding through from the depths.
The clash of these two forces,
One of rage and passion,
The other calm and emptiness.

I am caught here and there,
Thrust into this suspended zone, no-man’s land of the sea.
The hand I once held.
It is being swallowed away as I fight against the currents.

I swim after it.
The serpents race around me watching,
They pass judgment,
I will show them that I am like them, but I am not them.
Taunt me like they would, I can ignore them,
I swim down deeper.

The skin of the hand is coming clearer,
Their paleness shining through the murk of this strange world.
I reach out I can see the arm now, that tantalizing skin.
Even here I can stretch out my senses,
I can hear the beating of her heart.
I can see her face now; it is a mask of fear.

I surge forward, but she slips away again.
I scream in frustration, the sound hollow and garbled, silenced instantly as it escapes my mouth.
Rushing forward, I claw at the water, I try to bend it, twist it like I could everything else
But it does not yield, it laughs at my futile actions.
The water, the sea it hates me
And she is disappearing faster
I fear I will lose her.

Then I realize that I cannot have her.
She is gone, somewhere a long time ago.
I never held that hand, not here, or there in that place that lies in my memories.
Gone,

Maybe if I scratch at these walls I can break free.
If I am the power and if I am the demon,
One of the many
The serpents can contain me no longer.
Rage. All I know is rage; I am the embodiment of it.

I fight you, I carry a sword,
Our blades are crossed,
We are in another verse or passage,
I will twist my head to catch the sight beyond you.
I will not look into your eyes my foe.
Serpents range around the edges of my vision.

Face me, face me coward, you will look at me and understand.
This is my time now, I will not face you. You do not exist.
I scream a blood-curdling cry,
I am vicious, I am uncontrolled, I see red.

The black and the smoke that invades my nostrils.
No, do not let it be true, I…
…twist my blade around,
…and it…
it is shaped like a gun.

What? Where am I?

Things, they start to resolve themselves.
The room,
The television,
The neat line of photos on top of the shelf.

This is no place for me. Take me back.
I want to be in the water, I want to reach for her, those pale hands that I held once, I am sure I held them once, so long ago…please, take me back there.
The gun it itches my palm. The feeling makes my body shake. I know it. Yes I do know it. I understand. The realization takes my breath away.

I have killed.