I have become accustomed to the darkness nowadays. At first it was difficult. Everything had to be negotiated by shape or smell or if I was lucky, the sound. Guess time. Like an old party game but longer, much longer and without the reward at the end. This has never been the place for rewards. In fact I had to guess at the spelling and only Eldred could remember when rewards had any relevance to life. Let me announce myself. I am a mole. A human mole forced or shall I use their word; ‘encouraged’ to live beneath the earth because the above place is too dangerous for anyone of my type of sensitivity.
After a while the earth starts to smell friendly in a damp, natural sort of way. It has its own scent which reminds me of why I am here, writing again after such a time. I write on tablets of slate. Sometimes I cut my fingers and the blood joins in my my grimy ink to spell things I should have forgoten but can’t because they remind me of who I am, why I am and perhaps what my final hours will be.
But today I lost my way. My tunnels had a mind to decieve me. And when I sat pulling at my face trying to picture some shape to my situation, I felt a suddden heat about my feet. I repeat -heat about my feet. Rhymes I can smile about, they remind me of something I dare not think about except in a light feathery way. Like a glance on a windy sunny day when you look out, browsing for something special or pretty. ..
Where was I?
Oh yes, the heat on my feet.
Like a star upon my toe.
Maybe this is the day they told us about. The day the star would show us that everything ends in order to begin again. Just better.
I move my toe. Move more toes.
Wiggle my foot.
And then I notice the hair: Matted ;pink and blue.
“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.”
Albert Einstein
All our souls are written in our eyes.”