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Gathering dust
Apr. 8th, 2006 10:26 pmEvery so often, I trek to the final resting place as there's many that 'reside' from family & past. Today I make that trek again. It's an expedition....a stopover .. flowers; thoughts; flower; thoughts. The sun was shining hard & the sky with a classic blue hue; the temperature slightly cool - all in all, a most perfect day for solemnity.
The drive is a pleasant one....albeit trekking across a proportion of highways. It's not close yet not far - far enough where one can do what one wants to do in solitude. The silence is almost golden within these vast green fields crammed with raised & inscribed brickwork - and in some cases, house like structures - all constructed for the same purpose...to serve as an ode to a lifetime now gone. I enjoy this place. It's so damn peaceful. There is both much & nothing to do there ... and quite often, I'll worry that I'll not be able to make the visits before the gates are closed. These visits are private. I always bring my little book. It's falling apart; it contains the scripts of those from above whom I relay in silence and ponder many thoughts. The memories are sad, although this place provides a comfort I can't explain. I wonder if they all know I make these visits. I wonder if they can hear me. I wonder if they are there. I wonder. They are all here.
Sometimes, I check through the many structures whom have no connection with me. There's many. Some are so beautiful to look at - others are falling apart with age. Each time I visit, they have eroded even more. I assume there is no one to take care of the older structures. As I make my way to the final 'resting ground' in another suburb and with a bizarre name, it is here that I visit the very old small sealed home structure of my heritage. It contains family whom I did never meet. This rather glum looking structure also contains more whom I vaguely remember as the special one who had looked after me as a very young child.
I made my trek back to the big city, passing by areas of my childhood on my way. Odd...I was so caught up in my thoughts that I stared...I imagined how it once was and felt numb each time. Sometimes, I would like to turn the clock back, however when I die, I will die! I have no intention of coming back.
C'est La Vie.
The drive is a pleasant one....albeit trekking across a proportion of highways. It's not close yet not far - far enough where one can do what one wants to do in solitude. The silence is almost golden within these vast green fields crammed with raised & inscribed brickwork - and in some cases, house like structures - all constructed for the same purpose...to serve as an ode to a lifetime now gone. I enjoy this place. It's so damn peaceful. There is both much & nothing to do there ... and quite often, I'll worry that I'll not be able to make the visits before the gates are closed. These visits are private. I always bring my little book. It's falling apart; it contains the scripts of those from above whom I relay in silence and ponder many thoughts. The memories are sad, although this place provides a comfort I can't explain. I wonder if they all know I make these visits. I wonder if they can hear me. I wonder if they are there. I wonder. They are all here.
Sometimes, I check through the many structures whom have no connection with me. There's many. Some are so beautiful to look at - others are falling apart with age. Each time I visit, they have eroded even more. I assume there is no one to take care of the older structures. As I make my way to the final 'resting ground' in another suburb and with a bizarre name, it is here that I visit the very old small sealed home structure of my heritage. It contains family whom I did never meet. This rather glum looking structure also contains more whom I vaguely remember as the special one who had looked after me as a very young child.
I made my trek back to the big city, passing by areas of my childhood on my way. Odd...I was so caught up in my thoughts that I stared...I imagined how it once was and felt numb each time. Sometimes, I would like to turn the clock back, however when I die, I will die! I have no intention of coming back.
C'est La Vie.
