Emily Brontosaurus pondered on the futility of it all as she breezed past old memories
Older sensations and whimsical thoughts poured through the sluice-gates she opened
To let the dammed collection of murky waters once part of her stream now a lake of despair
To free-flow
Gone were the days of searching for satisfaction amidst the debris of fallen idols
Now ground to dust paying the price for their infamy and the misfortune visited on followers
In that petrified forest that lingered now in eternal crepuscular light – no shade no light
To encourage shadows
Tuning in to the here and now she located the scorched earth of the northern end of time
Where the children born to know nothing more than fear and despair tended their offspring
As best they could amidst the unending carnage in what had once been the verdant fields
Of their forebearers
The blood of generations still flowed through the gaping wounds and shattered dreams
Fashioned by reptilian minds that now took other feline forms to combat the morbid
Forces of destruction each as insidious as the other battling for supremacy and
Territorial imperatives
But Emily couldn’t linger in a present that kept shifting into the future as past dreams
Flooded her being to the point of no returning to the fantasies that moved her onwards
To gather stardust and other planetary debris that whirled by as she sped past the galaxies
In her mind
Or was it that which she had no remembrances of those black holes containing the universes
She had explored in days of future past with moody blues and pink floyds and yellow jackets
All of them making the music she would use to colour her dreams with changing them to studies
In black and white
But back to now – in spite of the nowness of it all everywhere all the time at once
Emily forced herself back – to the place she was in with a Bach Cello Suite playing
In the background the notes bounced off the wall and filled her head with fragments
Of melodic sequences
Merging into acapella Spanish vocal sampling retaining the melodic sequences
Emily floated off to Madrid to watch again the toreador that stole what was left of her heart
After that it was back to the petrified forest where the faint strains of Gregorian chants
Coloured her world
And so she sat at rest at last no traces of traces to cloud the waters as they rippled clear
Crystal clarity bottomless and without limits only the movement on the surface
Unending ripples reflecting light and shade both apart from each other yet so much a part
Of each other

Emily’s gone!

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