Vignette: An old timer

Time, time is so pressures, so powerful, so good yet so bad. It’s so strong yet so, weak. It can give you love, but at the same time take love away, but love you can’t live with it but you can’t live without it either.
I’ve seen time after time, people live and people die. I’ve loved…Oh! How I’ve loved so many, so many times. But still I have not learned my lesson. But you live and you learn.
I’ve lived, yes indeed I’ve made mistakes some which can never be forgotten, but some are just happy accidents which looking back at know I would laugh. Oh yes, have I lived. Lived through all the revolutions you could say, you could say I’ve seen everything. But then again i have not. Maybe I missed a couple details, and sometimes lost my big picture but I’m just letting time take me. Letting time take each of the noise I heard, each taste of dinner I had with my family, each morning and each night, each blossoming feeling, I’m letting time take away. Time, it’s and important thing yes…yes indeed.
Now from everything I’ve seen I can tell you that there have been so many changes since what they call the… textile revolution, that I can’t name them all. But every single darn change, from the flying shuttle to the motor engines all impacted someone’s life. Every coward, every if they weren’t there, every if the weren’t good they all happen to a lot of people, and i can still hear the cries of the banished worker, and the sheer of those owners. I can see the poverty, but i can also see the progress. But who am i to judge, I’m just a grandpa of a developed developing world.

Vignette: The long lost Maiden

I used to run with my shoe prints leaving a trace in the molten sand, the sun slowly setting, leaving strokes of pink, blue, and gold. I used to taste the sweet rays of sunshine, and hear the distant song of a maiden. If I tried hard enough I could almost see her. I could almost make out her face. Recognize her raven black hair, and how it perfectly machetes threes bright her violet irises, which were set on a single memory, just like mine were on her. “If you look hard enough I bet you could see heaven” that’s what my mother used to say to me before she went to the place she used to speak so kindly about. But before I could leave the thought of my dear mother, I tried to breath in one last scent of the salt ocean, and tried to taste one last bit of the morning sun, just as I once did, but unlike the maiden I let my breath take my worries instead of my life.
I pushed away my swarming emotions from filling my glistening eyes. I tried to stop the emotions from entering my mind, I tried to stop the horror…as I was snapped back to reality by my friend who mugged me as if to say “the master’s coming!” with scene of the sunset erased from my mind, the taste being sucked out of my mouth and the maiden being taken away… gone. I continued to work on the fabric piece. I looked at the intricate details that were in the pattern, and how the colours danced in symphony. I wonder what it’s like to have a colour always in line with you, always there to complete your puzzle. I wonder when my colour will show up, or is my colour gone just like the maiden who once said “heaven is where worries are just mistakes…”

Vignette: The hunger beast, with no purpose

I walk, my shoes made of gold, as I leave a copper trail. The poor scrambled, grabbing the scraps of copper, wealth, and pride I had left behind me.
I close my eyes that are filled with greed, filled with ambition and lay on my satin pillow. My silk sheet cover my velvet nightgown, my body lays perfectly on my king sized matters, my whole room has antiques and prized possessions that people would dream of owning. My dreams were of nothing but money, nothing but the riches and fortune that money would bring me. The raw and rough as the touch of money, was the best feeling of Touch I’d ever touched. There weren’t many other people, just misty blurry figures screaming.Thou my vision was clouded I could still feel angry, and pride shine from the vast mist of people, bright through the blurb objects screaming in vain. Although there was nothing in my mouth I could taste the jealousy, and hate from the land of blurry faces.
My imaginations ran wild, and I visualised the venue…and…and…and then I would come in, breathing in the salty environment into my heaving lungs. I would come in and have a sword, like money, so sharp but quiet, that no one would notice the thick aumber liquid. I would kill all my friends, who were blobby ghosts, and win. Money means winning. Winning means money. I win. I’m money. The thought of that, makes me grin under the calming lights, on my satin pillow.
Everything is money, my clothes, shoes, floor, doors are money, and me…me too…i’m money. Just money.

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