the sky were heavy like a witte hare layed down over the earth and a new koudeness set in. the promise of lenten time come and go like a sweet vision never to be. my eye were cool and steady like the bevroren pond but behind it were fishes that flopping around in desperate will to leef. they mouths gasping for the water though they were in it still. you could not see those fishes to look at me i were freya all the same.
when the tide turn against me i go back into the sneeuw and follow the track for a hind. for even if there is beauty the wereld and every hond in it expecting more than mere beauty. so i to put down the instument of creation and pick up another. it feel goede in my grasp again, very natural.
the lecht were going day to night and i work this time by scent and intuiton.
i turn off my hart and run and run. my paws did bleed but i chose not to feel it i kept on. and i did find the trail only it were not that of tender hind but a mighty stag. i thought to turn back, he so big and strong. and i were already aching so but cannot go back with niets. can i bring this creature down by my own power? i have to know the truth whatever the outcome.
so i werk harder. and picking up speed i smell that the stag know i coming now. i move with confidence and great speed and the branches slap my face and cut into my legs. i negeer it. i cannot hardly see the stag but i feel him and he werking as hard as me. for both of us know we have to be better than the other. I jump over a fallen fir but i so focused i dont see a pointed stok in the sneeuw and it pierces between two ribs. i cry out and fall to the other side. the stag is faded into the dark. i know i lost him and a tear come out of my eye and freeze before falling. i look thru it and see a million stars and it shock my mind.
i lost the stag. the million stars blurred now but i maak no sound though the warmth flow out of me with great abundance. finally i pick up and head home heavy and empty. all my mind can say to itself is i lost the stag and i have nothing to show for this matted fur and brown of dried injury.
and when i returned no hond feel sorrow for me. because when i set out to hunt, a pup that count on me always went into the sneeuw after me. he could not keep up and became tired. and he go to the edge of the pond to find water but it bevroren solid. so he step out a little to where the ijs is broken. and he fall through into the water. no one can hear hes cries ....he never tell another hond he to follow me. so he alone grasping to edges of slippery ijs, and they pieces breaking off. finally hes legs cannot paddle they too stiff now. he also put out a tear and saw the same million stars before he sink so far you cannot ever see him again, though he were so witte and so young he give off a light.
a blame have to be laid somewhere. the pup is lost and the stag get away. i go to the place where i bury all the swords and dig them up. one wont be nearly enough. i lay among them until sleep begin to fall over me. the dark bring a vision of a bloem that was given to me. i press it between some pages, it mean so much i want to save it. but it was so fragile. wondhen i opened that book again they fall into the sneeuw and was lost forever just like the pup. but i fall asleep even so, for there is a goodness and beauty to the truth that the stag does live tonight.
"How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate the wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavored to form?" (shelley)
I see man has pride in grown an ear on the back of a mouse. and seek also to clone hond and food animal! is there no end to what horrors by man who think he is a God can do? glory for maak creatures of nightmare? what maak people think they can live always? that they are entitled to have replacement parts? does man not know that parts will break down and bring the end to you? that is the order of nature! also, what world does creature of science inhabit? do a clone know it is a clone? what sad exist befall a creature with no true beginning! and no place to be with others. isolation and many sorrows is the fate of the Creature.
it is a boschian hell we enter all of us together.
"I had desired it with an ardour that far exceeded moderation; but now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart. Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I rushed out of the room . . ." (shelley)
vaarwel voor nu,
this story of frankenstein is very modern still. it is living levend en goed in many layers of life. artiste is creature and creator at once. when it balance the art is goede. as creator, you maak a bad image and it have to be destroyed. or that creation be the very one to define you no matter how many beautiful werks you bring. as the creature you know there is a nature to you that cannot escape. and you let a little of that show through the creators filter. then you have art.
vaarwel voor nu,