Baked to life in the belly of the sun, torn free from the bones of the Earth, and grown upon the mountain, he counted every breath. He took meaning in each moment–a grape that foresees its ultimate destination as one sip in a dark, flavorful bottle. Life’s spiral whorled around him. He sought the truth of every passing detail.
The brittle end of summer, the ache of mid-winter, the steady sky and shifting stone beneath him. Forever etched in frozen light.
He lolled along with pregnant seconds–gathering their energies of possibility.
Grass grew below him. Life went crawling and flying, and fighting, and dying. Clouds pulled themselves into wisps of paint high above, and roiled about in puffy plumage–spilling their water. Soil and fire and a long, steady breeze. Warmth. Cold.
And after time, and dust, and bones–he found he was sleeping. The world turned in quiet purpose. The ocean took the sand. Lightning made glass. Islands burst from the sea.
Far away he heard a voice. It stretched across the trees and water. It sailed through the stones, leaping upon the mighty spine of the Earth. It shivered through falling streams–burrowing over red cliffs and pooling in green shadows below.
It shook him from dreaming.
The sun awoke with him, and pierced the sky. The flowers he’d not yet noticed whispered to his nose. A slow sigh swept salt to his lips and blew open his eyes. New light burned inside him.
Hidden things have only not been seen. Knowing that they are there is enough for the seekers.
When he stood, the mountain marked his place for him, keeping the curve of his body. In one, perfect, thoughtless leap, he floated down the river. He skipped upon the wind. He stood in the heart of fire, and dug into the stone. He sought vigilantly.
Long later, when circles took him back to the mountain, each second had frozen there for him, every diamond facet of life holding snapshot-still. All of him–burning light in a gemstone.
When the end came finally to greet him, the pressing of the seasons seemed so short a moment. Eternity took his hands and swept him away to dance. His ears opened to the singing stars.
They sang to him that nothing is ever completely finished. They told him there is perfection in what’s left undone.
Kevin Shamel reminds us that humanity is here for the blink of an eye. But that moment is eternal.
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20 Responses to “WE • by Kevin Shamel”
Comments
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February 20th, 2008 at 5:23 am
All I can think of is one word – wow!
February 20th, 2008 at 7:41 am
Interesting and well written. I’d love to see that prose turned to something more down-to-earth.
February 20th, 2008 at 8:14 am
Thanks to both of you. “Wow” is just what I was hoping for.
Alex, stay tuned–I get a little more down to Earth now and then.
February 20th, 2008 at 8:23 am
I took it that we is mankind and that the story therefore is the entire span of his day on earth? Not sure if that is right but I did love the use of language. You could have equally made this into a prose poem. You still could actually get a few poems out of it all subtly different.
I particularly liked the last line.
They sang to him that nothing is ever completely finished. They told him there is perfection in what’s left undone.
There is something very zen about it as in Bhuddism where the universe is never complete nor is life, but in a state of constant becoming.
February 20th, 2008 at 8:35 am
It is Zen, Oonah (and undone like Bhuddism, and lots of other spiritual ideas). And that IS what it’s all about. I’m very pleased that you got it–I’ve had a lot of people, including my wife, say they like it, but don’t get it.
If I remember right, this started as a poem. It’s an oldie.
Thank you so much.
February 20th, 2008 at 8:52 am
thanks a lift in my day
words are so much of life and life is so much words
you use them well muchly appricated
February 20th, 2008 at 8:56 am
Prose poetry at its best.
February 20th, 2008 at 9:04 am
We didn’t quite get it, but we loved the prose enough to publish it.
February 20th, 2008 at 9:13 am
Thank you, Barb and Gay!
February 20th, 2008 at 10:12 am
Poetic. Dreamy. Great writing, Kevin.
February 20th, 2008 at 12:00 pm
Thank you, DJ!
February 20th, 2008 at 1:18 pm
Well I’m pleased I got it. I like to study ideas and so I’ve soaked up a fair bit of many religious beliefs and philosphical view points.
Don’t stop there. There are poems inside too. Explore the writing of these thoughts a bit further. Start cutting phrases and find the poems.
February 20th, 2008 at 1:55 pm
I’m sorry. No one has ever accused me of being too bright, but I just don’t get a line like: “He lolled along for pregnant seconds-gathering their energies of possibilities.” What you talkin’ ’bout, Willis?
February 20th, 2008 at 2:12 pm
All right, I’ll do what I can without making this long and dumb and boring:
The story is about humanity’s run on the Earth. He (being humankind) is waiting to make a move.
Each second is filled with possiblities, up or down, left or right, inside or out, war or peace, forward or backward, etc. The seconds are and aren’t literal. Literally, they are a true measure of time, and I’m saying that every second of our lives in an infinite moment waiting to be put into action.
Also, that each second contains every possibility there is. And that each decision makes a new reality. Other Worlds Theory and all.
Figuratively, each second is a space of time in the development of humanity. The story follows our birth, and ends with our death and beyond it, not really ending. Just like, no matter what the decision to do with the pregnant second, the moment never ends. It’s filled with too much possibility to go anywhere. Each second, and what we do with it is the birth of endless universes. Meanwhile the world goes by. What we pay attention to determines our reality.
Or something like that.
February 20th, 2008 at 2:14 pm
Dang. Up there I meant, “…saying that every second in our lives IS an infinate moment.” Sorry ’bout that.
February 21st, 2008 at 5:17 am
Beautiful prose and very deep. I won’t pretend I got the meaning behind it, but I realised I didn’t necessarily have to in order to enjoy it. Thanks for the explanations here – very interesting.
Good to see something different on here, well done.
February 21st, 2008 at 8:24 am
Thanks, G! I’m glad you liked it.
February 22nd, 2008 at 3:57 pm
Well done Kevin! I have always loved the visual beauty of your writing. “We” made me want to stop and smell the roses, watch a sunset or climb a mountain just for the view! Thanks for reminding me how important the little things are.
Keep wowing me!
February 27th, 2008 at 5:21 pm
What the heck is this? Do you know this person, Kevin?
May 13th, 2008 at 11:39 pm
“So what your saying is every tiny molecule in my fingernail could be one tiny universe!” This one was really deep, but the use of words and the flow are beautiful Kevin! I can only throw my tiny comic barbs at you!