Drifting Through Time

A veil of mist blankets the river, slowly drifting over its banks as the moon ghosts silently behind thin dark clouds. A frog croaks and after awhile a cricket answers. A soft ker-plunk echoes across the water as something breaks the surface for a split second, than vanishes into its murky depths. And far away a mid night bird cries out to the darkness. Than all is still. High above the river I sit naked in a hot tub, a disembodied head floating silently on top of black steaming waters. My head is leaned back. My eyes closed as beads of sweat run down my face. My ears are open though, as sound fills them, mixes with thought and takes me to far away places. Places that perhaps only exist in dreams. The pool, illuminated by dark blue lights, reflect off the steam rising up, casting an eerie glow and dancing shadows about the night. It is a Saturday night and I’m alone trapped in paradises prison. Alone in a town that is known for its elderly. A town buried amidst the lagoons of Florida. But for awhile my mind is free to wonder. And it does, over forests and endless deserts , over oceans and mountains, rivers and canyons. Drifting through time like a H. G. Wells machine. From past to present to future and back again, in a blink. Through cultures and civilizations. Hovering over cities with names so ancient and alive they stir up your very being. Cities like Shanghai, Bombay, Casablanca, Istanbul, Athens, and Paris. Cities with so much history locked into one name. Then there are cities that are myths that may or may not have been alive yet the name is a wonder to behold, like Alantis and El Dorado. But time wears them away to nothing. A rock wiped away by wind. Cities that had once been so alive now empty shells of their former glory. Slowly my mind is pulled back into reality. The time is late, and the new day awaits. Dripping I regretfully clamber out of the hot tub swirl a towel around my bare skin and head for the bed where unimaginable worlds and stories will play out as I sleep.