A Dazzling Platform (The Earth To Exist Upon)

    To wake daily at the foot of mountains, with a fire still contentedly gossiping in the hearth. Shadows sweeping and gliding across the land hand in hand with icy Northern winds, both turning sharply upwards and racing unhindered skyward, rising as abruptly as the shifting adolescent Earth dictates. 

Steaming soup cupped within a relaxed and grateful grip, stepping out into the world and welcomed without hesitation by the morning bluster. Long hair dancing in a gleeful, chaotic flurry, though as with all other morning greetings, entirely failing to garner any of your attention. 

For the mountain has you. The weaving winds and busy, dark, sweeping clouds have you. The mingling aromas of smoke and soup arouse and warm you. Nothing stretches beyond you other than the world itself, and what a dazzling platform that is; the Earth to exist upon.

The days are short, and you spend the largest time of it busying your heart in tending to your music, and beside that fireside melodies spring from your essence to the page. A car engine slowly crescendos into your awareness, and draws your gaze out through the frosting window, you are surprised to see that it is near dark outside - had you been so lost in song that another day was gone? As the car pulls up and becomes quiet next to the house, another pair of lights appear beyond it and a second car hums its way toward you.

Your closest neighbours exit their vehicles with hair dancing wildly just as yours had so many hours ago that morning. They too, unfazed by the insistent breezing flutter. You open the door to them and light and warmth spills and tumbles out toward them, accompanied by the hearty scent of fire and soup and warm bread. With jaunty greetings more of laughter than of words, your friends enter the richness of your home, and with them of course, instruments and wine.

As usual, the evening hazes into the wee hours, always in the same order of proceedings: Feasting, music, then chattering away into the night, lubricated with wine, fire light flickering gently across contented faces. Discussion inevitably delves deeper in synchronicity with the night, and in the silent spaces between the laughter, you find your mind wandering again to that dazzling platform, and wonder if there are others to exist upon.

You know that before long you will have your answer, so you reach and find another log for the crackling flames to feed upon, decant another bottle of wine amongst your bubbling, rosy cheeked guests, and again your collective laughter fills the valley, and rises up that mountain with the wind, carried away to who knows where.

Luke BarkerComment