I wrote this a while back thinking about life changes and leaving Las Cruces. It was a thought on how beautiful leaving the city I grew up in would be. It is about new places, and new people and living somewhere that feels more like home. I began writing this stream of thoughts on my drive back from Santa Fe. Please leave comments or questions.
The odyssey, or excursion was molasses, and came from a dead stop, to a slow crawl. There was a sense of gloom in the air that the people of this sleepy town breathed in and out until they were intoxicated with complacency. The local population ate hardily of the fruits of quiescence. I could not mirror my soul in the hollow shells of existence that shuffled around like the undead. Unaffected by the beauties of the natural world, and ignorant to the ways of the nature of humanity. Culture made no stop here, and art had withdrawn its presence from this unholy city, and the music had not died yet, but it was on life support, its cordate vessel barely beating.
That is the desolate mental landscape we have endured for so long. We come out of our caves and have seen the blinding light. Ignorance is suffocating here, its fingers wrapping tightly around my neck and the presence of death constantly looming. Apathy so thick you could swim in it. We moved out towards the light, and witnessed a brave new world, filled with hope and promise. Evergreen zeal, and flowing ecstasy, sweeping our minds and spirits away to a expanse of surreal reality. There was beauty in the movements of the people there, there was life and wisdom in the trees. There was no stale breath, no sigh of exhaustion, but brisk winds.
Leaving was a sense of freedom that was never known to either of us. We have always longed for this liberty but could never quite find it. This freedom we had never been able to replicate, or even witness. It was shocking those first few turns of the wheels and how even the smell of the cigarette smoke that rose from out my tired lungs seemed more sweet. The cosmos smiled upon our travels and there seemed to be a return to the universal equilibrium.
We had decided one fateful day that we shall trade our shallow comfort for adventure and uncertainty, to be shared in the embrace of each others hearts and in the cold mountain air. What could be more beautiful than opening up our wooden door in the midst of winter only to be pushed back into our humble abode by the bitter cold and warm ourselves at the base of the fire and the linens of our bed. We had dreams before but none like these, none that weren't so much dreams but goals and realistic musings that had not been acted upon just yet. She focused her fancy on the capture of human emotion through moving imagery. I were to focus on waking at any moment of any day, office or home, computer or steno pad, and grab the deliberations, intuition, inferences, ideations, and seeings from the collective consciousness and put them into the flowery but meaningful constructs of language. I was to write and describe human experience in such a way that would bring people together and make them understand each other in a much deeper sense. Our lofty and utopian desires be realized, and realized in the clouds of our heaven, our land of purpose.
Easily this could all be the end of our passage through life, but never would our path be ordinary. In most unordinary fashion a metal was hammered, from the daughter of an artistic mastermind came the shape and the style of what was to be a band. This band carefully designed with tender thoughts and amorous purpose. Destined for the digit of promise and engagement. Struck until the everlasting stone could be placed into the center of its heart, was a band of such meaning that none other could possibly hold. No not ordinary at all, but most extraordinary this would continue to be our destiny, our fate.
With love this piercing what could escape the effects of its reach. Not I, so as it were, I fell and most dangerously I fell. There would be no end to the depths of this emotion, no cessation of affection only growth. There came a time where an observance and a rite were to take place. In the pines there was a clearing, a circle. This would be where a heart would lose its place, where the loss of blood would be devastating. Torn from its place amongst the ribs and lungs, blood loss in a most dramatic sense. There would be two who would die here today in an eternal ritual. The two would die and out of the dust, ash and blood would rise one united in friendship and flame. The covenant sealed into hearts and hands here would forever seal adoration between the two, two stares locked into each others eyes, two lives became one. What more could have been promised but eternity between the two, separated at creation, reunited and never splitting. Two flames dancing in the wind burning higher into the heavens warming and glowing. Even this could never end, never ordinary.