The trouble is, no one really understands what it means to be a ghost. Firstly, some people are stuck under the false presumption that we are here of our own accord, like out of all the opportunities Eternity has to offer we’d choose to stay on this same, miserly planet. It’s not that we’re trapped here by a curse, or that we stay behind just to haunt some poor souls with our suddenly bottomless store of free time. I’ll tell you one thing, this certainly isn’t leisure, if that’s what people think.
I remember when I heard the first knock.
Scared? I wouldn’t say that there was any real fear in me, no. Anxious? Yes. I had been alone for a long time, living in this cabin. I knew this place, every creak of every board, every whistle the wind called in through an open window, every shadow of every hour.
When the boy knocked on my door, it was unfamiliar. Of course I always knew that there was a chance of somebody finding me. My corner of the woods was remote, but it was still part of the woods.
I can still hear his faint words.
“Please, sir. May I come in? It’s awfully cold out here.”
The wind coerces the trees into a wild dance. Fog-like mist blows furiously through everywhere; it feels windy and foggy at the same time. The incredibly indecisive autumn leaves with their orange, orange skins drift gently, and then whirl furiously, and then just hang midair. Continue reading Don’t Mock the Trees
“I prefer to view my personal universe from the heliocentric model.”
The others rolled their eyes, a manifest of the inward groans felt at such a strain to be sophisticated. Lord, even in their humor they flaunted something of their “brightness”. It was nauseating, the outright admission of this egotistical, narcissistic facet of identity that of course is the only thing that would merit spending any money or, for that matter, time, at such an institution as this. One must have an awful lot of delusions about himself to set himself in a university.
The university students sit in the confines of their desks, heads square and cornered, mere boxes for the minds they are so willingly locking away. They line up their thoughts in this cell, force one of the prisoners towards the gap of their lips. “You,” they say, selecting one carefully, as though they are doing it a great service in setting it free. But there is no liberty in the timid thought. He has been prisoner too long; he has lost his spirit. He has been locked away, made presentable, tamed before his release.
Abide (by the Law), they tell the thoughts. No lawbreakers permitted through these lips. The rest of you, to the corners, the dark corners of this mind. No glimpsing at the world through those window eyes, lest someone on the outside sense your presence. Back against the wall, into the shadows.
than in the morning to take a walk
For one need not have any words to say
there is no reason to talk
The subtle thrill
Of dashing across a crosswalk
With thirty seconds to go,
Cars turning right in front of you
Even though it says “walk”. Continue reading University of Life