Ray of Brilliance

Ray Bradbury seems to be a writer whose brilliance shines through quite unpredictably - like an unannounced flash of lightning which burns a likeness of his nocturnal mindscape into the reader's brain, leaving a lingering after-image which is not altogether unpleasant.

Well, judge for yourself, this is from Frost and Fire - a short story about a human(oid) race living on an unfriendly planet where 'normal' lifespan is reduced to 8 days - with an accelerated aging process which plants a paralysing fear of mortality in everyone from the moment they are born - knowing that their days are numbered irrevocably.

'Birth was as quick as a knife
Childhood was over in a flash
Adolescence was a sheet of lightning
Manhood was a dream
Maturity a myth
Old age an inescapably quick reality
Death a swift certainty'

Why then, I wonder, does this description of an 8-day lifespan feel so much like my own, at least as far as I have lived and what I expect from the rest?

As I read the struggle of that far away race to gain an extra day of life and to find answers for a 'normal' life span, I felt suffocated by my guilt - for wasting the time I have.

Now that is the sign of a great writer, when his words from a different time zone, frozen on paper, makes me feel a certain frantic desperation for all the things I have not yet done ...

Peptic verse 2 (hope nix)

so what happens then?

a new job
a new car

goodbye old life

the only thing certain is uncertainty

Peptic Verse (a rag man)

As I drive up the motorway to work this weekend while
my friends - who I dearly love and yet rarely meet - are
scattered amongst the bedsheets like random
dream wisps, I think of the road I have travelled
in this foreign land miles away from the warmth of home

At 24, I came here chomping at the bit,
eager to prove my worth,
let the whole world know:

I HAVE ARRIVED

(thank you all for waiting)

Aound me was a glowing sphere of youth and opportunity
anchored on ME by invisible cables, drawing upon
my sheer brilliance at it's centre for it's existence

I never veered from the fast lane
I dipped my lights for no one

At 26, I was sure of what I knew and I was sure
of what they knew, I was sure that what I knew
was more than what they knew and I was sure
that they knew they needed to know what I knew

My right foot stayed firmly on the pedal
I stopped not for amber

At 28, I saw chinks in my armour,
pointed out by others and at times by myself,
during the endless nights of insecurity when
I probed and prodded for weaknesses

The cars around me sped past while
my gaze fell frequently upon the fuel gauge

At 30 denial helped, although I had to change (reluctantly)
my drop down menu selections for the first time

My faithful ride looked weatherworn
(tiredness is infectious)

And yet maybe
just maybe...

all it needs is a new angle

a fresh

perspective

(peptic verse for some)