Carving Through Words
Freshly groomed heaven resting upon mountainside.
Clean slice of paper, absent of word.
Anxiety, adrenaline, building courage, strong legs, new skiis
Upon favourite chair at favourite desk, in hand; favourite pen. Relentless thoughts only barred by experience.
Sun shines. Ski lifts in motion. Breakfast digested.
The sky is dark with slow rain caressing the window. Rested. Alive.
Peak of the mountain, 8:24 am. Frigid wind embraces every unique curve of the ancient geography.
Peak of the 3 bedroom bungalow, 8:24 am. The ominous resonance of the ceiling fan, harmonizes with the rain.
Terrain starts off flat. Ever present of the steep descent ahead.
Name written, date follows; standard procedure. Ideas begin to organize.
Snow flies. Skis stop at the height of the fall. Final evaluation follows....Deep Breath.
Tap.Tap.Tap. The pen hits the paper three times. What's left of the nail on your left thumb is further desecrated.
Without further hesitation, two poles puncture the crisp snow, acting upon the two fiberglass boards. No turning back.
With an organized mind, the pen hits the paper, tattooing it with blue ink. No turning back.
Constant acceleration. Left handed pole plant, pivot, pressure to the left ski through the turn. Right handed pole plant, pivot, pressure to the right ski through the turn. Repeat.
Directly linked; mind and pen. Ideas flow fluently from one medium to another.
Indent................... stop at the margin
continue....
Half way down the summit, legs burn.
2/3 through the page, thoughts; raw.
Approaching the end, movement becoming unbearable.
Concepts appear staggered, sentences run on, and on, and on.
Left ski catches an edge, sending it into the right. Skis release. Hard contact, abrupt end.
Knock!Knock!Knock! Ink stops flowing, mind goes blank. “Breakfast is ready!”
|
