Femme Folk

"Why do her eyes become so big and soft whenever we meet?"

Nadia is the equivalent of a calico feline; I ask of her to share essential wisdom.

"What were you born yesterday!"

Mystic smoke parallels ghosts from other dimensions.

"I saw the expression in your eyes. As a matter of fact I am quite a bit younger age than you, please keep that in mind."

Fairies giggle for her smile; unidentified hallucinatory figures emerge to join her laughter. Rainbows reflect the opposite spectrum of an usual prism.

"She feels extraordinary when you are in her presence. The castle lights up with sunshine and all of the ghosts disappear into contentment."

"How can I do this to her when the feeling is within her being?"

The credible modern hippy stiffens a conserved expression, lips tighten disapproval, mahogany eyebrows point downward directing obvious body language; arms fold across bearing ye olde.

"How do you feel about her? Are you too busy paying attention to the way she looks instead of the way you feel about the way she looks?"

"Well rather difficult not to notice. Her eyes are such a deep blue."

Quirk of the corner dimple quietly inquires more; she summons information without contemplation.

"She has beautiful eyes and her cheek bones are exquisite. Her hair is beach sand washed away into currents with the wind; I want to touch but to admire is the nature of the ocean."

"That's why her eyes look like that."

I feel her fingertip center my forehead, an attempt to touch my brain. My legs communicate with my feet; we must bolt intensity of wild stallions. The steady hand of a fisherman's net clasps my belt. I try not to face the blunt scolding of feminist woe; a little fool hunches over the ground staring at my shadow.

"You need to let go of the old way. You must respect what is in her eyes and lead your actions from there. Watch your hands to know that the energy that guides you into motion is what you see inside."

"What is the old way? Is there a new way? Am I so old that I cannot be new? If I see the old for the first time then is new to me."

I distinctly hear a foot lift salty grains; the hourglass will teach me a lesson my buttocks shall never forget. Squirming for freedom I loosen myself releasing unreasonable urges.

"Something that people learned in an old book trying to tell people what to do."

"So I should not read old books?"

"No it's not the age of a method that matters it's whether or not it will benefit this world as of now that makes it new or old. Will you just chill so I can let you go! Listen to me without protest. What I am telling you is what you need to know before you do something stupid."

"I am supposed to listen to you without protest while you protest?"

"Do you want me to let you go?"

"Yes of course, you know this!"

"Then chill out."

"How can I chill out when you are holding onto me!"

"You got to or I won't let you go."

Grumbling profanities of blood and clots sift through my mouth while sand fills my nostrils; she let me go. I lift my eyes for oceans bluer than memory; I cannot recall what previously occurred, I feel docile. Two feminine voices speak a secret language; I learn to accept silence for my wishes of Coney Island kisses.

Snow

"Snow, how does the living become jealous?"

She does not ponder my intellectual intensity, a blizzard haze of self seeking trails.

"The dead are jealous as well."

"What is it to be dead?"

"The same as it is to be alive. That is why when you are alive if you are jealous when you die you are still jealous. What you see is what your eyes perceive. What you know is what your eyes do not see. What is before your eyes will disappear. Your knowledge is your only true vision."

"What therefore is knowledge and how is it attained?"

"Through experience the lesson of action and inaction. We never really know anything. We can only speak of experience so this is our own knowledge. Every single person as an individual creates their own mind and their own wisdom. This way we all each know something different so that we may learn from one another."

She prepares me as not to shock; I am inexperienced misery. She presents a riddle for me to decipher profound simplicity; Snow is the sage, the archer, cheerful indifference for the chastiser, and the woman I honor shadows of monks. Water ripples wild currents of analyzation across my forehead. My brain storms lightning; her bow springs for attention.

"Is this what becomes of my body?"

"These are skeletons and they hold up your body as not to say we become a skeleton; we are skeletons already."

Lamps burn bright acknowledging her presence; chants of unified contemplation without beginning or end cools the air.

"This is my head? What a strange being I am."

Her laugh is thunder of a charioteer's horse hooves dancing through snowy mountains transforming into seagulls.

"This is a skull. All the pieces that form the protection for what makes you wonder so many questions is tucked inside like a turtle's soft body. Each one of these creases or plates is like a trumpet pronouncing the oncoming battle."

"What must I defeat?"

"Jealousy, envy, lust, deception, greed, boastfulness, grotesque behavior, and the source of temptation for all of these."

"Where and how must we meet?"

"Inside of your heart and mind that interacts with other hearts and minds. That is where you will find hatred and that is where you will find love."

"Thus love is hatred? If so closely relative in one place then they must be of the same origin."

She places chin upon a curve hook finger; the pirate lost his hand.

"Hhhmmmmm.........side by side like heaven and hell."

"Uranus and Pluto must cross each other's path; we assume each to be so far apart but both are similar."

Her index bends between her lips; a gesture of caution for words unspoken.

"Like war; brothers fight and they come out of the same womb. They forsake their mother and what once was love is hatred. Maybe what was always has been so they always felt that way about each other. Change is just realization."

"Then jealousy must be both love and hatred as one without changing."

The Centaurian grins for found treasure; her words flow electricity striking the conductor.

"If so then when you realize this what do we feel and what will be the outcome?"

I think about Nadia balancing objects upon my dome while I sit still; I seem to float away from the physical world. Once an egg, very uncomfortable; I feel the top of my growth.

"I believe it to be what we truly seek. I believe what we seek is freedom. The feeling and the outcome is freedom. Jealousy will cease to exist!"