Dance of the Ephemerals

They go through my head in a flash of color like a summer’s bolt of lightening.  And they last about as long.  In that span exists minutes, hours, days, months, years.  Lifespans.  Names and places.  Streets and cornfields.  Hurricanes and tornados.  Floods and famines.  Boats, cars, ships.  Folks in a hurry and folks taking their sweet time.  Folks who know their destination and folks who just don’t have a clue.

Some open up readily and impart who and what and why they are in a blink of an eye.  Others snarl, remain tight lipped, and dare you to complain about it.  Those are often the most interesting ones — they dare you to catch them in a bottle.

They all come from the same soup as we did back in the long ago.  And thus the spark is a crucial part of the creation process.  But each spark does not lead to an evolving being, only the promise of one.  So exists the Ephemerals.

They hold no allegiances.  Their purpose is to exist and impart.  They do so on their own terms and in their own language.  It is not their job to teach that language or wait patiently for an interpreter.  They reveal themselves, then go.  Once the flash is gone, memory must take over to make something of what occurred.  They rarely grant repeat performances.  But their dance can bewitch and one showing can fill several lifetimes.  This is the way of the Ephemerals.

Sometimes their numbers can overwhelm.  Or they can impart so much in their brief moment of existence that the memory becomes hopelessly bogged down in minutia.  Subtlety is lost.  Finer gray shadings lose their beauty in memory’s harsh spotlight as it scours for details.  Memory gluttonously seeks order and will impart its own if not sated.  Then the flash diminishes.  Delicate are the Ephemerals.

I shepherd memory to curb its ravenous nature.  Through slow reflection, I can see the image left behind by the Ephemerals, like looking at a developing Polaroid.  Then I must use what tools I have to tell what I have witnessed.  Through this process I attempt to transcribe the dance of the Ephemerals and master their choreography.

© 2011, gar. All rights reserved.

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