Friday, October 20, 2017

NARCISSUS from me me to ennui

Written many years ago

NARCISSUS TURNS FIFTY

from me me to ennui

So I’m not a flower. I knew that all along. I’ve begun to
realize that I have been sitting here a long time. How? I
think it was the thunder. I think it was the lightening. I
think I was struck or the water was struck or my image was
struck. I think my image was hit with one hell of a jolt.
When I first stopped to look, time meant nothing. I
mean it simply meant nothing. Not just the sitting or
wandering through the forest. Time is for hope. I was
beyond hope. No, not hopeless. When you are the center,
the all, what’s the need to hope? When you don’t know
there is more, what’s the need for hope? Well, maybe I
didn’t have it all. Maybe I didn’t want to know there was
more. So for me there was no time. So that is the way it
was. Then.
Why did I stop and look in the first place? You might
think it’s because I thought I was beautiful. That I was so
important. I don’t think I was important. I think the idea of
me was important. But I only exist as someone else’s idea.
And that idea wasn’t me and I couldn’t be that idea. Back
then I was frozen in the idea. I had to stop. There was no
where else to go.
Of course my story was so simple. How beautiful, how
charming, how wonderful I was that was the story. And how
I saw myself in this pool and became entranced. (Forget the
flower part.) Do know about my parents or my ancestry or
my home. Hello, who are Narcissus’s parents? Do I really
know who my parents are?
I didn’t know anybody was trying to talk to me either. I
mean when you have to believe you are beautiful, charming
and wonderful shouldn’t you be heard not talked to. So
Echo who if you ask me has her own problems was yelling
out to me, “I’m here, it’s me,” all I heard was “me, me, me.”
So what do you expect? I mean if I was a flower I couldn’t
hear anyway could I?
Does it seems like I have a lot of questions? I mean there
is one. Well, you would have questions too if you just sort
of woke up after a long period of no time to find out it was
a hell of a long time. Of course when I was stuck in that no
time thing I thought I was the only one. Let me tell you
there are a lot of us around this pool. And lord knows how
many pools there are. That’s sort of disappointing. If I
spend all this time here (not knowing it until now as I said)
then the least of it I could be special.
The story goes that I got stuck here looking at my
reflection and turned into a flower. Well forget the flower
thing. Forget the reflection too. I wasn’t looking down at
me. I wasn’t of course looking back at me, that’s too deep.
I was just that surface. I was stuck right on that surface.
You know what that’s like? The slightest breeze can
ripple me. Someone pointing a finger can distort me all to
hell. Currents rising up from below cause real havoc. It
isn’t easy being on surface like that. Of course, I almost
didn’t know that.
And it isn’t just that I got stuck on the surface. No, I got
stuck just the way I was the moment it happened. Can you
imagine (guess you can) what it is like to wake up and see
this image that might as well be three years old and me
really showing the wear of time. Quite a shock, whoa,
wrinkles and gray.
And lost options and opportunities which is another
matter all together. No, I’m not feeling sorry for myself.
Well maybe a little. But let me tell, while sitting here trying
to figure what to do, I’ve seen others. One guy’s part of the
pool just dried up, don’t even know where he went. Then
there was this woman the shore slip right into the pool.
Don’t know where she went either. And another a tree fell
in a huge storm, poof gone. So at least I’m here.
Okay about that flower thing. This part is secret okay.
I’m mean I was a weed. Just useless. Maybe pretty because
someone wanted me to be pretty. Or maybe important
because of their need. It was all their lie, I was a weed.
That’s why I don’t like even mentioning the flower part.
Pure bull, pure wishful thinking, pure illusion.
Okay even that’s not true. All the while some part of me
has been stuck here at this damn pool the rest of me (no I
don’t know what I mean) has been out there playing like I’m
all grown up. Doing my productive thing. So I’m not a weed

either. I’m not a flower either. I’m just me. Now what?


No comments:

Post a Comment