Lifescape

See where I started, in the garden of my childhood. Fenced around with parents hedged in with strict convention. Walk with me. The bare hills of ambition from my youth lead upward, onward, overlooking crowds and earthbound throngs. Climb the eroding pathway to the top whence with far-ranging envy see, mocking, the high peaks of distant mountains, unattainable, glitter their silvered summits. Stand on these cliffs and wonder as the seabirds plunge and soar like hopes and aspirations tempting disaster as fate's breakers beat upon the rocks of past mistakes. Walk on the clifftop, if you dare; the tightrope of success; never relaxing concentration, risking the headlong plunge from heaven to hell slowed only, if you're lucky, by the outstretched hand of friendship. Now wander through these quiet woods of contemplation, restful and green with peaceful glades. Soft birdsong filters shafts of sunlit understanding, bringing into wondering view the undergrowth of hidden imaginings. Sit for a while, for a short season's warmth beside this running brook of happiness and listen to its peaceful trills contrapuntal to the murmured sounds of slow, contented summer, tranquil in a lover's arms beneath the frantic beauty of the skylark's song. Descend these nameless, slippery paths that lead through the dark places to the chasms, to the lonely depths of black despair where midnight terrors lurk in deep, dank caves of restless sleep and every monster's shadow looms large and overbearing. I offer you no final resting place, no welcoming tavern for a lifetime's thirst, no sheltered bungalow to care for after work well done. Only a cross-roads in a barren place where a blind fingerpost hints at unseen directions, untravelled paths with unknown travellers crossing. Walk with me. Kim James 26/5/95