The Poet

I have this memory, subtle at first but now it echoes through all of my bones and now I feel its more than a distant dream. I look around every corner expecting to see my imagination to blend with all we believe to be reality. It starts as if it were a movie, the curtains draw and the title passes by on the screen. What is the title of this movie that plays in my head? It is not known even to myself but I know what to expect, and I have always known what will happen. 

Shades of black and grey flash in my mind, it starts to all blend together and I start to see shapes. Squares, rectangles, and even more convex forms and then I see movement. People start moving around and what I can make of them, they aren't happy. They speed back and forth to preoccupied to see what is in the midst of them then the screen turns black. It remains black for several minutes and all I hear is crying, not from multiple individuals but from one person, then, everything changes. I start to see a bright white halo in the distance and it approaches closer till I see a person in the center. You may be thinking this may be some revelation, but I can assure you that it is not anything close to salvation. 

The figure in the center starts to turn blue, a deep blue that can see everything that you once loved, then bring it back. The blue turns slender, into a person, a woman, a dress. I see a young woman with her back tuned to me standing up straight with her arms in front of her. Long dark hair to surpass her shoulders and a petite dress to just pass her knees. I look intently, waiting to see this seem to be angels face. She starts to turn and her dress sways in the wind, she is still looking away, she is happy. and as she starts to turn I regret to inform you, all vanishes. Everything starts to turn bright again and replacing the darkness is moving forms and where the girl once stood is now a bench. 

Imagine a stereotypical busy New York street that lies horizontal in front of you, now imagine that same busy street is so full of people that you cant even see the pavement. Sky scrapers are in front of you so high that you cant even see the sky. In the distance and trees are even closer and in separation of the trees and the crowd is a line of benches, now one bench holds the line and on the bench lies a young man, could have been me, sitting forward, hands clenched and  resting on his knees and hair long enough that I cant even see his face. He is wearing dress clothes, white shirt and tie nice slacks and bare footed. He looks down as the crowd in front of him rustle about, now turning into business men and women but all remains in black and white other than the green trees behind the young man. The others talk on their phones rush to the paths that lie in front of them and they don't seem to pay attention to this lone man who has no desire to move.

Shapes form right behind this young man and they are floating above his shoulders, no bigger than a backpack but one on the right and one on the left. A hand forms on his left and touches his shoulder, the figures appear to be angels in themselves but they appear to be darker, shades of black and grey. The one on his right whispers into his ear and they seem to have nothing mischievous in mind, they put the young man into peace. You focus on his arms and you realize that he is bleeding, for the arms of his white shirt are staining a dark shade of red. His shirt can no longer maintain the moisture and start to fall and drip on the floor. You follow the first drop that touched the ground and it follows an incline, that appears to be toward the bustling crowd. 

The young man starts to roll up his sleeves as the blood continues past the crowd and you notice that he has injured himself in a obvious attempt to kill himself as slashes follow his veins across his arms. The blood stops in the middle of the crowd, about 20 feet away from the young man and starts to move vertically, disobeying all that is real. The blood forms into a circulatory system and moves on to make a body, clothed in all, forming the woman from before, the woman in black and blue. She walks towards the young man and the crowd walks around her to let her be in full view of the man and I finally see who she is. The young man looks up, face still covered sees the woman, she approaches him and bends over to look at him in the face and kisses his left cheek and disappears. The young man stands up looks up and wings form out of his back, he starts to ascend upwards and the once known busy crowd stops and watches to view this man. The man continue to move upward and all turns black. 

I have seen this woman in real life several years ago after the dream. 

At the time she was seeing someone else and se asked me why I was so sad.

I had no response other than "I was born this way".

I now have seen this woman other places in different people.

Maybe this woman is less than what she looks like.

But how she looks at the world.

The woman has since left what I felt, and has become what I see.

Maybe no one feels like I do anymore.

Maybe she represents the dying breed.

Maybe he is a dying poet.

I still dream of them to this day.

Remember me