Things are Always Simpler from Up Close
Article by Avery Carrington Art by Liz Emmaline Hawley
I had a little moment and the trouble did arise
It was the truth of what’s loved, and the dreams so sublime
I didn’t mean any harm when I showed up at your spot
It was the heat of the moment, and the time it took to rot
Now I know just between us our mouths remained close
Not a word left to utter and the passion we chose
We did our best with all the work we put in
But it was the chaos and the drama that was the thing that did us in
I will admit it was messy, and the damage has been done
At least I can finally say that I wasn’t the only one
The magic of the mind has no bounds. At night, conjuring grand images and deep secrets from behind two windows, with viewers that saw it all. I conjure paintings of those who I’ve loved. Those loved ones I’ve known, but they become more vivid as they become moving images in my head. Silent images that scream revelations.
One person I “conjure” is my most beloved friend. He was someone I knew, and he is someone that exists within a different realm. This realm holds more “magic” in the facts of reality than it does in the dreams I can make in my head. He stirred the pot of my mind, and it still stirs with my hands at the mantle.
We knew each other in a past life, where more understanding came from when we didn’t talk than when we did. And when we did, we talked about different things. He talked about the facts of his imagination that brought an analytical lens to what he kept inside, while I ranted about all the possibilities in the imagination, coming to life from the inside. I produced threads with my imagination and he made rope. We were two types of spiders that shot different webs.
Our webs tangled with every snag of the fibers. Where we once rebuilt, soon neglect would grow. Is this the pitfalls of love or just two bad players? We tried to build scaffolding in a world that was intangible, and we confused each other when communication was needed. And we don’t talk anymore besides the paintings I see in my head. What we had was magic, and magic has no truth.
Chaos is in magic, and magic isn’t dead
We were just two spiders sitting on the same web
When tangled it bound us and when bound we fought
We spun this web together and it was the truth that wasn’t sought
From architect to dreamer we had the same vision
But it was the data in the matrix that made us fail our mission
Love theory has no order and there is no peace in the mind
When sitting on a web we once made together and being alone isn’t kind
To say it more neatly won’t let justice pursue
I believe that chaos is love, and love isn’t doom.