In the Forge, In the Dark

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

Night thoughts about loneliness and eccentricity

In the Forge, in the Dark

Sometimes at night before the twilight of my mind sets itself to the void, in the distance of my thoughts, I hear a beating. In the still moments and the universe opens and I can hear a heart thread rhythm landing in the distant reaches. A lone celestial body hammering in the dark, the meter matches my own beating. The creator of all years testing himself to do better, to master the madness that drives him to breath life into souls. A brief pause, and a short hesitation between each stroke as if recalling a piece made years earlier. A piece left unfinished, a piece rough hewn by mistakes of an old and tiring masters hands. My own heart misshapen and discarded on the scrap heap, I know the sound it made when it fell and in hope of hopes the familiar clang of the material hitting the floor, a small piece of something that beats in time with mine. It might be failure and trash in his eyes but it's hope to me.  And as I close my eyes I pray it’s for me, another in my own form and mind that shares my peculiar space. But the forge clangs on as unconsciousness takes me and the mist rises on that old smith's skill. Maybe the breath of life will find that scrap of unfinished essence and guide it to me.


Submitted: April 04, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Jason Meikrantz. All rights reserved.

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