white horses

like the golden leaves of fall giving way to snow sheets of winter; like the rain that has to fall from the sky when black clouds rendevouz; like the passage of time forcing me to become one year older each year - so, the chick must become a chicken, the sweet apples go rotten, the inevitable come. hummingbirds hover around the hibiscus flower, butterflies flit from bloom to bloom, the iridiscent throat of the kingfisher reflecting the sapphire of the water surface. i am surrounded by beauty, and yet i see the infernal inescapable maggots that eventually reaches everything. somehow, somewhere, death has touched me and its grip has changed me, its effects irreversible. death of a loved one, death of a love. many ways to die.

and while i sit here staring out at my garden, watching the boughs of the bingbing tree sway in the sticky breeze, watching the fat white cat with black patches slide sinuously through the gaps in the fence padding its way softly across the wild grass, i am lost in my thoughts, lost at sea. now the cat meows, and i am shaken out of my reverie of pastel shades and angry gashes. i am caught in an infinite second in my mind, it stretches on forever even as the songs on my itunes in the background keep shuffling along their playlist marking the passing of seconds, minutes.

i contemplate what it means, and am unable to come to any agreeable conclusion. everything my mind reaches at, i reject. how disagreeable. i am restless and yet lethargic, i yearn to do something that would poke holes through the safe cellophane that envelopes me - and yet i am held back by the comfort of amniotic fluid, safe and safer. i do know that even as winter comes, spring will come again, the grass will emerge from the frozen ground again. i do know that the rain will eventually stop, the sun will shine again. but what those wise philosophers never point out is that not every spring is the same. every winter is slightly different. every winter leaves different indelible marks on the land it passes through.

not wanting to sound overt today, i shall leave out the mandatory sad song i like to end my posts with. but i do know that i'm not a princess, this ain't a fairytale, i'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet. i do know i was a dreamer before you come and let me down. and i do know that it's too late for you and your stupid white horse to come around.

because i'm now a princess, this is my fairytale. i'm still a dreamer, after you never let me down. and it's never too late for you and your white horse to come around. i've found somebody who actually treats me well. and i do know that this is a big world, not a small town, not hollywood.

it's not too late, catch me now.