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Parody of a Double Life

Updated on July 8, 2011

Experiment

I actually wrote this in 2005. I was experimenting with multi-genre writing. This combines prose with poetry. It is written in third. person narrative. Towards the end, the prose begins to fade into a dreamlike sequence and the poem is born into the dream. The poem is free verse so it has no rhyme scheme or meter. I did this to capture the effect of the dream as often our dreams are rather complex but lack order.

This writing tells the story of a man and a woman who fall in love instantly. However, due to the circumstances in their lives, they are not able to share or express their love for one another. The female is the main character, and the metaphor of the shooting star signifies the search for him, her love. Even when they have been under the same roof, they have somehow missed each other, and while she seeks him out, she does not find him because her gaze is elsewhere.

Hope you enjoy.

Parody of a Double Life

He knew he loved her the first time he laid eyes upon her. She saw him as well, and did her best to not be noticed by him. But he already picked her out of the crowd, and as soon as he could, he introduced himself to her. She ended up walking by his side for a brief moment, and he could not resist to say hello. They immediately found a topic of conversation which kept them by each others side until the day ended, and from then on, she looked forward, each day to meeting him. There was an interest that existed mutually, but remained a secret. He continued to flatter her with his sparkling blue eyes. He kept smiling at her. For a long time, they shared dreams, and desires.

But then, without delay, she determined to set her heart towards a dream which he refused. It was not that he did not want to go with her, but he was not ready, and could not understand. And so, she left him to himself. Although much of her mind remained with him, consumed in thoughts of him, and wondering if she would ever see him, or meet him again, she did not allow herself ever to entertain the desire she still had for him. She lived her life, believing that if her love was ever meant to be shared with this man, then fate would bring them together once again. And so she waits, and waits, and waits, until she finally grows weary, and her waiting becomes some mystic disease that fades into a starlit dream of sad, desperate existence.

 

She dreams of herself waiting

And watching as all the people walk past her.

She watches them all passing, in a hurry

Like rain falling from the vast openness above

And the farther above it falls from,

The harder, and faster it hits the pavement below.

 

She waits for him, searching for him.

People come in and people go out.

They all look alike, yet no one looks like him.

Will he be there?  Will he ever be there?

That she may see him, even once more,

Even just for a moment.

 

Or will he appear?  Perhaps when she is

Looking in the wrong direction.

Once he was there in the room.

But she did not see

Because of her fickle

Preoccupation with those surrounding her

Charm.  He disappeared in the silence of the

Night.  He is nowhere now, not anywhere.

 

She told the story once of how

She has never seen a falling star.

She has sat beneath an endless sky

Many starring nights, searching for a

Star that might fall from the heavens above.

But while waiting in dead anticipation,

She would turn her gaze to the right

Just as a star would fall on the left.

 

Will he ever be there, where she exists,

In that very moment in time? 

In space?  Or will she be looking, and

Waiting, and watching the people

Pass hurriedly into a new day?

Waiting, and watching the people

Go by.  Good-bye.

The more she searches, the

Further he seems to be.

The more she loves.

Comments

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    • Phil Plasma profile image

      Phil Plasma 6 years ago from Montreal, Quebec

      Quite an evocative piece, thanks for sharing it. You get a vote-up and a beautiful for this wonderful falling star story.

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