LIFE

The western wind is restless.

It is blowing hard and in confusion … changing directions as if looking for that special place to settle … and the tree tops are following its whims like obedient dogs.

The darkness engulfed in fear, is trying to hide its face in the remaining light of the half moon ... almost begging its crescent to stretch herself thin into a whole circle as to illuminate a few more square feet.

The demons are out and busy.

I can hear their peculiar cry coming from nowhere … its source can not be detected … not from the west, not east nor above … nowhere. It is just there … manifesting itself in an intense and capriccioso way.

The chillness in the air is produced by the shame of the darkness that the night has been sentenced to carry for eternity and of course the Western wind’s agitated and edgy movements. The chill is the perfect mode for the demons to thrive in. Still no face … no apparition.

But I can feel their presence …
I can smell their filth …
I can hear their laughter in scales made by the devil himself.

The demons are here.

It has been a good while since they dared so close to me … but then again, it is not a surprise as I am low in sprit and weak in heart … they can smell my vulnerability.

My inner voice is exhausted and even dormant. It has been dormant for a good while now. It simply gave in to my yearning without having the strength to question it.

And my mind? … it is frozen.

The demons are here.

Perhaps I should not go out again to light another cigarette. Perhaps I should stay in and conserve my remaining energy to regroup and gather strength.

I am here in the bedroom away from the caressing – or rather lashing - of my old companion, the western wind, who now tries to push me inside and keep me in. It almost slams the door behind me with its force as if to say ‘Get in and stay there’.
But there is no use … the demons are here and I can feel them even in this dimly lit bedroom where much energy has been created by our union in the past.

They dare to come so close; even to this bedroom … this shrine of love. Their faces are glued to the window and I can see the steam forming irregular round shapes on the glass, every time they breathe intensely as they have smelled the blood of my spirit.

The daemons are here.

What should I do? Go out and face them under the pretence of lighting another cigarette? Or shall I hide and try to save what can be saved?

What would it serve and to what end would I face them anew? Another round of me pushing them back, showing my own teeth and they barking at me as lose dogs, once beaten by me in the past?

Naaaa …. I chose to stay in. No point in indulging them a re-run of our past encounters.

I stay in and try to understand why despite she being in the same room, still our auras can not connect. Then suddenly I realize this barrier of anger between us. It is almost tangible and visible. And the demons’ eyes are glued to this wall of anger which keeps me and her away from each other and in between the bricks of that wall, in that barrier, they find themselves a trench to hide and wait for the right moment to attack

Yes …

the demons are here.

They can sniff my wounded spirit.
They can see my heart turned into a jelly, wobbling inside my iron chest.
They can smell the scent of exhaustion coming from my muscles inside this room.

The western wind is blowing harder as to blow the demons away.
But their nature and essence is not of this world.
Their presence can not be erased by tangible force.

No wind can blow them away.
No water can wash them away.
No muscle can hit them away.

The demons are here

I see them clearly now.
But how did they get out of their cage?
How did they dare to get so close to me again?

The demons are here
and I see them clearly

One is carrying the banner of suspicion
The other the banner of jealousy
The third one lagging behind is wrapped I gown of bad temper
And the last one is humming tunes of insults.

What a quartet!!!

What happened?
How fast can one descent?
How long does it take to dive a distance of ten thousand of spiritual miles from high above in the clouds, into the ‘Mayday’ bar?

The demons are here.

But they know very well that they can not stay, because in the end of the day, good intentions prevail….and this life is only about intensions.