At first I was following
a boy and a giant on a path through a forest, and that became just me
and a person I knew (but don't actually) crossing the path of an
almost blind man (whom I actually know). I greeted him, he greeted
back respectfully and told me something that I've forgotten now. But
it's not important. Before us was a giant, cave-like structure. This
forest was very tall, and this cave was right in the side of a
mountain, with this broad path leading straight up to it, and it was
very high-ceilinged. There was the skeleton of a cathedral in there.
Just the frames of the high windows and doors, out of pale
green-tinged grey sandstone, reaching up all the way, and connecting
with the rock at the sides and the back. It was grown over with ivy
and dog roses. The sunlight glowed through the plants and pierced
yellow rays through the gaps. It was fascinating, impressive and
beautiful.
At first it was nature. I mean, it was just there. And then I learned in passing, while still looking at the .. structure .. in complete awe, that I'd been made Colonel for my poetry. That felt strange. In the next moment this beautiful place was suddenly the venue for some exhibition, and two of my poems were featured on a card that they were going to hand out. The new one was titled "The Host/Gas" and was about poison gas and a waiter or something. I don't remember. It was bitter, very good, and my newest. The other one was one that actually exists, but I forgot which it was. A young woman talked to me and wanted to clarify something about my poems, or about my poetry in general, and as she was being all.. busy in her mannerism, and I was just sitting on a small desk in front of her, she spread the printed cards with the names and poems out on the desk and tried to discuss them with me, it turned from a briefing into an interview without questions, somehow, which in the end she concluded with her slight disappointment in me. She said she always liked to .. probe a poet or artist a bit, to sound them out at first, before deciding whether she liked their work or not. And I hadn't lived up to her wishes. Which amused me a little. Because she hadn't actually asked me anything, and secondly, that viewpoint is a stupid one.
At first it was nature. I mean, it was just there. And then I learned in passing, while still looking at the .. structure .. in complete awe, that I'd been made Colonel for my poetry. That felt strange. In the next moment this beautiful place was suddenly the venue for some exhibition, and two of my poems were featured on a card that they were going to hand out. The new one was titled "The Host/Gas" and was about poison gas and a waiter or something. I don't remember. It was bitter, very good, and my newest. The other one was one that actually exists, but I forgot which it was. A young woman talked to me and wanted to clarify something about my poems, or about my poetry in general, and as she was being all.. busy in her mannerism, and I was just sitting on a small desk in front of her, she spread the printed cards with the names and poems out on the desk and tried to discuss them with me, it turned from a briefing into an interview without questions, somehow, which in the end she concluded with her slight disappointment in me. She said she always liked to .. probe a poet or artist a bit, to sound them out at first, before deciding whether she liked their work or not. And I hadn't lived up to her wishes. Which amused me a little. Because she hadn't actually asked me anything, and secondly, that viewpoint is a stupid one.
So I turned my eyes and
attention away from her and back up to the awesome open cave, and
that's where it ends.
I'm not going to forget
this very soon. The cathedral shell low in the flank of a mountain.
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