Clouds’ Illusion

by Sarah McCartney and Christi Long

for 4160 Tuesdays

I dreamt of seeing you again after the Sun and Moon have passed. Of looking upon your face and tasting again your smile in the shade of orange-trees, in the eve of flowered glades ere the summer rise ; to see you as I loved you, once again to see you as you were.

I dreamt of seeing you once and thenceforth forever, of having my eye inked with the image of yourself. I dreamt of feeling you ever close up against my skin, of seeking shelter in thy arms from the winds of harsh living. I dreamt of awaiting with you the coming of our fate and the doom of all time. I dreamt of keeping you close even after time.

I dreamt indeed of a thing and even more. Of the fields of fallow gold swaying before the storm and the sky of rainy days that we taste in all its smells, and the salty sea spray that flee from the ocean, of nature frail and yet grandiose, of nature wild and yet docile – I dreamt I was there alone and naked in you.

Such are the dreams, the dreams of mine. I dream still of your voice like thunder sounding, I dream still of your eyes like Baikal deep. I dream still of your hair covering like a canopy the sterile savannah of my self.

I have and dream of you.

For I am without you but forlorn. For it is of I like as of a winter morning sky. A veil is fallen unto me like fog in the light of day and there is naught for me but silence grey. It lies heavy and through it I hear not but see the winter, your reflection I descry, your distorted silhouette as of a coldlike mirage.

My memories are become a snowflake. In them existence doth lie in its immensity and all ours futures in their infinity – then melted.

I dreamt of seeing you one day when all is passed. When all would reach the end of its path. I dreamt of seeing you one day after the day, after time and before time. I dreamt of union with you I dreamt of uniqueness with you I dreamt of unity.

Rains fall over a golden horizon. There springs from the ground a hidden heat, there rises from it a smell of hay dry and the winds ‘tween their lips now blow the dust of beechen leaves.

I am alone without you. Nor one nor good, I am forlorn without you.

Hills are levelled and the storm draws on the ground its shadows like the might of mountainsides. Summer golds, now pale and grey.

I watched you leave. I felt you inside me. As of one soul we were smithen.

Forests, arise. Glen and glade, get you gone. Meadows march and with them now come the draught of desert dunes, the hail and skies of rain.

My eyes are closing and I see you now like for the first ever day. I look at you still like the first ever time. Sun kissed your skin and nose this morning and its rise I saw only through you.

The hour comes of a celestial drama, the storm approaches, its thunder masses around me. The air is fell and hot and heavy.

A flower once grew that I must now let die. A blossom I have shielded that I must let dry. For my love has been borne hence and I cannot go thither. Of this place whither he’s gone, I mustn’t remember.

I see the firmament wide open, a peaceful eye amidst a sea of dark clouds.

I wish not to hear my voice but in whispers. For in it lies my joy and my joy has left me. I call him by his name and he answers me not. From dusk till dawn I call, in dreams and in sorrows I do. I call him in my mirth, in the recalling of my joy.

It whirls up on itself, it tears a sky into the clouds and silence into storm.

My eyes are opening and I see you now like the last ever day. I see your forehead and a crown of laurels, I see your feet beneath the sands and your hands against my hands. I see your shadow in daylight, I sense your presence in the crowd. You are my colours, you are my fires, hear me now you are my life. You were life, alive you were my life.

There flows from it no rain but a blizzard soft like morning dew, a crisply freshness like autumn leaves.

Where shall I go hence –I was waiting for you- now that you are far ?

 And I see you now amongst the clouds, amidst the sounding of trumpets. My time is waning around me, the storms are falling onto the world but you are here. And I see you with mine open eyes, as in a dream I see you, and my heart is glad with the heat of summer, with its stones hot and its dales cold. And I see you in the light of day and I see you before me and I see you after me. And I see you as you ever were before and after me. As you still were here.

 You will go along thy path, along the way that awaits for thee. Meless thou shalt go, thou shalt go as before me. Live good and of such happiness we knew, live happy. Thou shalt harvest flowers anew in such garden as I knew. Thy heart shall bloom once more like wheat in summerheat. Whither I go, now thou canst not come – but in prayers. But I am with you for forevermore. But I hold thee everyday close to me. But I call thee and thou answerest not. But I kiss thee and thou kissest me not. But I touch thee and thou feelest me not.

I did not see you leave. I could but let you go. Winter took you like seas have took the men – am I now become a sailor’s widow ? Your image is fading, your visage which I loved. I see you now above all clouds, I hear Heaven calling – like seas have called the men.

But I will remain when thou shalt move on. But I will await for thy coming here. But I will love thee when thou wilt forget me. They took my life, I now no live but in thee.

Let me remember before I must go, let me remind you of this Sunday morning. Let me sing ere it flies the music played in the street by a clarinet. Let me collect as I did of my tears, the memory of your scent and the taste of your neck. Let me touch, still wet with your loving, the cotton of my sheets.

I hear you.

Let me tell you all of the sun as it bathed you. Let me sing of your tangled eyelashes. Of our curtains blue, of our cloudy windows and the mauve lavender blooming on the balcony. Of your milky smooth skin and our mothers’ narcissi and of the sugary drops beading down your spine. Let me play as with roses’ petals, with your wrinkled fingers and say once more how I loved them biting and in you. Let me whisper through your lips a song of bergamot, of lemon and iris.

And the cristallised icing of lemon cakes.

And your scent of milk, vanilla and chocolate.

I will wait, go now less me.

I dreamt of seeing you once after time. I dreamt of finding you even after my time. Years shall pass and feelings shall pass and seasons also will. But you will never pass away – for as long as I smell this, you will never fly away. I feel and yet feel not the hollowness in me.

“If things don't go well, I want you to know that I absolutely love you. I want you to do good, have good times, same with my parents. I'll see you when you get here. I want you to know that I totally love you.”  - Brian Sweeney to his wife, the 11th of September 2001.

Clouds’ Illusion - 4160 Tuesdays

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