As It Is No. 3.

As it is, you are dissatisfied with the earth and its promises of abundance, of jam tomorrow and the labouring on, like there is no tomorrow. With this in mind you decide to go into the stillness of the lake and swim naked in its all around coolness towards the up-side-down world - as it is - and give the spent air from your lungs as bubbles racing - crashing into air - like a wish bursting in on a party. 'Where would you rather be but here in your element?' Again you surface as though you have driven yourself to the end of the world - only to turn around and start the journey over again. You take a deep breath out from your dream and the dream gives a sigh and dies. You see the flowers in the trees as fishes in fishermen's nets. You see dreams as journeys from the darkness of shadows and you see the wave as it comes towards the beach. You hear it break over the shingle and you hear the rumbling of the shingle as it rolls in the backwash like a beckoning voice, whispering, 'come closer, come closer', and you see a naked man as a body pure and beautiful - you turn away, you listen to the song of the skylark and catch a glimpse of freedom - lonely as it is - and you see the scattered feathers in a chicken coop - you see them as evidence that birds shouldn't be kept in cages as though they had fallen foul of the law. Here you see yourself with tears in your eyes packing your bags, ready for the journey that will break the ties of certainty, saying 'goodbye' to the family, waving to everyone - you turn your head and see that they won't go inside and close the door until you have turned the corner. You see yourself again in the doorway, bursting in on a game of Happy-Families. Surplus to requirements you give a sigh as though you want to say something important but you can only manage the everyday pleasantries that are expected of you. You see a nest of chirruping sparrows and when the chirruping has stopped and nothing has been said you politely withdraw and walk towards the lake. You stand on the grass verge that is lit by the moon - you quietly undress and place your clothes as though you have melted away there on the grass. You take a deep breath and into the coolness of the lake you return, with palms and fingers you part the semi-transparent waters and you enter the deep opaqueness of it all and this time you keep on swimming.

Copyright 1998 by Terry Miles.