Travis Smith

Science, Philosophy, Politics and Poems. by Travis Smith


Trying to imagine his unseen world circling the far away point of light.It was a majestic thought….To envision a whole other world swifty moving invisibly in the far off blackness.And then she thought about all those other points of light and gasped,realizing they too could have inhabited worlds spinning about them.Imagine that,she had said,billions upon billions of beings scurrying about the distant globes all across the infinite sprawling space.
He looked over at her and smiled,and to comfort her,he told her that any night she may be out here alone and looked up at his star and thought about him,he would know and think about her,Now,as she sat here frightened and feeling lost,she glanced up at his star,and thought about him…Would he think about her?
Lightning flashed in the sky again.She looked over at the flower bed and recollected about when she was a liitle girl.One certain certain spring evening there was a dark violent sky in the south.She could smell the coming rain which seemed to exacerbate the scent of the flowers,causing a stench.It hung in the air.she had come to look forward to this,coming out here and checking on the flowers to see if they were blooming yet.The anticipation was exciting for her.There was something amazing about how they would just keep coming up with each new year,over and over,rising out of the ground as if by magic,though she had learned how it was a natural process,not magic.
A very luminous lightning strike made her look up.The ensuing thunder shook the ground.The storm was over head now.It made the flower’s scent a rich pungent odor,as if signaling danger or distress.She should of been heading for the house,but she could not pull herself away.She just stood there,mesmerized by them.The flowers seemed so vulnerable, so exposed.How could they possibly survive something so intense as a thunderstorm?She imagined what they must endure.They would twist and writhe in the blowing wind,shudder in the rain,suffering its wrath.She pictured them,flower faces opened a moment ago to the sun,now bent down taking the beating.
She was concerned about their survival.They obviously survived past storms,nature always finds a way for survival.How delicate they looked ,but so tough they really were.Some may die,but most would survive.She reached out and touched one o the flowers.It felt so soft rubbing it between her fingers,but as she pulled away her hand brushed against the stem,prickling it.Blood began to seep out of the cut.It trickled down the stem,with a little bit smeared on a petal.It sat there as a small bubble,before dispersing and flowing down and dripping to the ground.How ambivalent they were,so benign looking ,but capable of in flicking such pain.
She looked down on them and could see the shadow cast from the storm.The flowers beauty now was more stark,their aroma burning in her nose,as they began their hypnotic swaying in the wind.This caused them to take on a impassive and cold demeanor.Their effort to exist now was driven by some strange inner impetus. The rain drops mixed with her blood moving it around before finally cleansing themselves of her life force.The swath of flowers once innocuous looking patch was now a picture of a huddled horde braving an invasion of nature’s elements. The previous sunny day now bringing them to the brink of destruction.
Her blood dripped down her finger in a mixture of rain.She was vaguely aware of the stinging pain as she stare transfixed at the darkly beautiful flowers.

Do roses know their thorns can hurt?
– Jonbenet Ramsey

She is walking up the stairs to the house,a big white one we have seen in past dreams.I am stunned to see the distinguished contrast between it and the darkness surrounding it.The white of her long dress even more so.And her long curly hair appears as static fire against the white back drop.She suddenly reaches the door and stops.I am a silent observer ,a standing shadow in the dark,but she hesitates as I watch her,and feel my heart pound out of control,as I anticipate her turning and looking at me…Her gaze just pierces through my shadowed shroud and arouses me out of my trance.Her ethereal beauty is astonishing.Her face seems the reason god went through so much trouble to make the universe.
The moment is brief,as I register the occurrence and savor seeing her face and realizing our eyes met.It fills me with a fantastic feeling.But then the waking world comes crashing down upon me,crushing any semblance of the otherworldly scean..I cannot say how sad it makes me,to once again ,realize it it just a dream(but really it is more than that).I am grateful to to once again start dreaming about her again.It has been too long.

Travis m Smith
DOC #529433

to be continued

Categories: Travis Smith

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