The transcendence of love.
It’s evasion of our bodily constraints.
It resides in depths both dark and murky, pleasant and bright.
How far would one travel to feel it, see it or simply understand it?
The seer had foreseen my moment in the distant future.
“The chance for a John Doe to find his other crescent heart!”
His tone was riddled with that crusty croak of a man who always had the last laugh.
But there was a comic truth to his pitch.
A sarcastic sound lingers, seasoned with the age of an oracle that has seen too much.
But his voice touches you, invites you in with a defiant sincerity that could promise you the universe.
“Step Right Up, Step Riiight Up!”
Venture forth into mankind’s eternal portal!
Your grand destiny awaits but beware of the deep abyss.
Your future of pleasure and modernity exists, a destiny so bright..you’ll forget to reminisce!”
Imagine a world where the English yoke does not swing from your charred necks”
A world where you are known not as the Fenian monkey but as the Chrome jungle king who issues cheques!
His tongue seem chiselled with such enchanting sounds.
A bystander’s momentary lapse was his easiest prey.
But the secret of his cause remained hidden in darkness under a robe of such rich fabric, only he would say.
With a violent swish and flick, his mystery was upon us.
“Behold! The Portal to your wonderful desires”
The invasion of my psyche.
The mimicking rhyme of my words.
The seer had foreseen my future, my wish to see other worlds.
A grand and smooth mirror stood before us.
Its hard and shiny exterior glistened against the dim moonlight.
Proud and solid it stood , but deep within its powerful reflection lay a ripple.
It was minuscule.
But it existed.
To be ignorant of this feature was to play the royal jester in front of his bloody majesty.
For only God could have created just majestic beauty within these frames.
Casting a blind eye to this fine specimen is to reject the Lords work.
I will not be privy that.
We approached the Portal with a dark but eager curiosity.
The pitter patter of our footsteps crunched against the white slushy grass.
Like a distorted heaven, the murky and foamy snow acted as clouds to the gates of greatness.
I stretched out a hand just to skim over the reflective surface.. The seer snapped, ” it’ll be 9 shillings if you want to escape this circus!”
Was a week’s wages of toiling in the factory worth leap in to the unknown?
Logic might have prevailed, but I felt compelled to believe.
The crowd eagerly awaited my decision.
I handed him a plentiful sack of coins.
A grin beamed upon his face with a dastardly cheek, that should have made me check the amount twice.
I anticipated two sets of corrosive and rotten teeth.
But instead, they gleamed with a lunar whiteness unseen in this land.
It was as if if they were sculptured and polished by a Venetian artist himself.
He uttered the words, “Do not fear the awe that radiates from that world”
I reached further once more, my fingers were mere inches from the land of St elsewhere.
Euphoria swept my mind as my fingertips scratched its surface.
A blanket of blur blocked my eyes, but the sounds were ever so crisp.
Sharps clanks filled the air, as if huge metallic elephants were all at battle.
A great murmur lurked behind those deafening sounds.
An assortment of voices simmered across this new horizon.
Their dialects echoed viciously throughout my body.
A mass of tall silhouettes dashed back and forth.
The focus was restored to my vision, but only to witness their faces consumed by constant distractions.
Their eyes darted at every angle like children spinning a model globe on its axis.
The fibres of my soul were transported to realm of a different dimension.
I felt overcome by a fleeting sense of loss and discovery, the circus had vanished but a new horizo had emerged.
A thick smog descended from the heavens.
Its stench was reminiscent of the biblical plagues and biological wastelands I read about during Sunday mass.
But a fiery hail did not descend upon the skulls of these humanoid drones.
For they prospered under the protection of Gothic machines that seemed to scrape the clouds.
As I peered through one of its windows a familiar figure emerged.
I choked on my saliva as my legs stumbled in astonishment.
His (my) glare struck me with an unrecognisable awe.
The hair on my back shivered uncontrollably.
I clutched on to an onlooker, desperately seeking solace.
As I pleadingly questioned him to reveal that familiar figure’s identity,
a transfixed grin was stretched across his face whilst his hazel eyes began to quiver and tremble mechanically.
“Why good fellow, he is the new Mayor for the glorious People’s Republic of London!
He may be a grandson to that IRA fool but its a true rags to riches story, they even say he was born in a dungeon!
The Onlooker began to depart from the scene, but he took one final glance at me.
“Ha! You do have a likeness to that crazy old Dublin man,
I wonder if the Mayor thinks the same, you could pass for his clansman!”
I began to sprint for the window.
My legs had been energised with a resounding purpose.
He was the crescent moon that I would soon give birth to.
My future. His past. Both hanged delicately in the precious but fleeting moment.
I began to witness the environment crumbling away.
The enormous Gothic machines began to fade in to obscurity.
The grim silhouettes seem to crack and fizzle out in to the atmosphere.
The misty glass of the window seemed to merge in with the Mirror that I had once entered.
My legs lost their faith as the circus suddenly reappeared.
That world had vanished into oblivion. But my purpose remained.
The crowd had dispersed, the only sound that could be heard was my awe-stricken panting.
The seer stared at me with an arrogant and spellbinding smile.
He knew my fate.
“I have to go back”.