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Blackholes And Revelation(s)
By
Shotgun011

Blackholes And Revelation(s)

Making my way through this Spanish mall, and passing through the square near the El Open Arms here in Malaga, and finding myself walking through a place where I have been once before years ago. And finding a place where I can have a draught of coffee and watch all passing by on their errands, as I find myself hearing the strains of either a Classical or Spanish guitar being played nearby, as I take a drink of that rich Spanish brew and the rhythm from the guitar player has my mind drift. bCausing me to think of the sea and her eyes with that sapphire blue million mile depth they both have. Reflecting as I drift back and knowing there might have been things I might have missed,-
I might have changed and might not be such a fool like I once was back in the beginning or maybe so, but then again who really knows? As I remember all things including those times we last met and talked, and hurt at times never shows except when the body or eyes give away that fact yet it sometimes grows. It really being no real stranger to either of us and can be felt coming like an unseen force from nowhere, and I know now why silences were kept and emotions kept in check.

Looking out and smelling the nearby Med as I notice the turning of twilight coming, as I have some more of that rich Spanish coffee and listening to all going on around me. Forgetting why I sit here in Malaga once again and in this particular spot after so long a time has passed. Wondering if I’m here and playing mind games on myself and dealing with old demons at the same time? And I have heard it said once that everything can be replaced in some way and that distance isn’t the end of things. Now feeling that things have been reversed with the light coming in and shining from the west to the east. All things have changed and times have gotten a little strange with me hurting and not really showing it, as I am still hearing the strains of the nearby guitar playing like that one night I saw her in New Mexico.

Paying the tab and making my way back the way I came to dine at the paladar Angola, and carrying with me the chords in my head that were played nearby and noting that they will be carried a while, It seems like I am choosing between either madness or sadness and I am standing here on the ledge of life, as I feel the breeze coming off the Med and smelling salt and the smells from nearby places. I can’t seem to explain what brought me here of all places unless it was to see part of life I once lived, or to see things clearly that were once blurred before that final blow falls and the curtain falls?
Then again I could have just answered that call of that old Highway 61 to be here, and just do the best that I can with what I’ve got left making my way step by step like I have always done. And having been pointed here part of the way by that star that bears your name and seems to be part of a grand plan, or could it just be the endgame starting without me having heard the trumpets being sounded for it? And will I find you here and be holding my hand like we did in the past when that darkness calls?

Passing a wall as I finally see the Angola coming into sight, and I find myself remembering the day we stood against one as the firing party’s bullets passed over our heads. With both of us knowing when we kissed that day that nothing could fall or fail for us at that moment in time. Wondering if you ever did realize that we were floating in space and happiness has always made you cry? Then again life goes fast and is a river that flows and we all need to make the good things last,-
As I take a seat in the corner against the wall as is my custom and have another draught of that rich Spanish coffee, and silently toasting those I know and those who passed through as I made my way and didn’t stand. Like I was some kind of a wandering ghost wherever this old Highway 61 had me go and follow. And I find myself wishing those I knew who are gone, and now watch over a simple kyrie eliason wherever they are. And to him, them, and those others I’ll just say fare thee well and not give a damn. But, then again I didn’t really crave praise from the self appointed saints quick to judge.

The El Open Arms is a proper name of a place I drank at in Malaga/Torremolinos Spain.

Paladar: Spanish (possibly Cuban), for a private restaurant.

Kyrie Eliason: Greek from the Roman Catholic Mass for May the Lord have mercy.

Copyright January 2007: Timberwolf International LTD.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than storiesspace.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright Timberwolf International LTD. All rights reserved. Copyrighted and protected under the copyright laws of both The United States and of The United Kingdom. Under U. S. Code Title 17 § 204. No unauthorized duplication by any means including electronic, or copying may be allowed unless permission is asked for in writing and permission therefore granted by the author or copyright holder, or his/her agent. In writing and signed by the owner of the rights conveyed or such owner’s duly authorized agent. And duly witnessed by his or her representative or duly assigned agent. Under penalty of copyright infringement or intellectual property theft. All violators will be prosecuted.

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