"I, I could be king. And you, you could be my queen."
David Bowie
I have given up trying to explain or define this unique blessing / curse that is my eyesight. This gift I wish I could share with all my dearest friends & family. And yet, simultaneously I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy... last thing at night, I remove my glasses, what little vision I do have plunges into a spinning kaleidoscope of colours & intense (think impressionist painting or out-of-focus photograph) fire and intensity.
Every day environment, furniture & objects transformed into swirling Van Gogh like stars... Reaching out clumsily, more by intuition & memory, I put (throw?) my eyewear on my bedside table, all the world a swirl & a blur. I snatch one last up close & too personal glance at my mobile phone, to check the time. flick off my lamp (once again by memory more than overrated sight).... And: for thirty seconds, my mobile phs blue light throws a final, last-ditch upward afterglow onto the blur of contents on my table. A unique, comforting last blurry snapshot of colour and visual beautiful confusion. And then. abruptly, finally: night. Darkness.Tired, weary eyes slowly close, in search of, in hope for: sleep. Or, even better, to dream...
Every day environment, furniture & objects transformed into swirling Van Gogh like stars... Reaching out clumsily, more by intuition & memory, I put (throw?) my eyewear on my bedside table, all the world a swirl & a blur. I snatch one last up close & too personal glance at my mobile phone, to check the time. flick off my lamp (once again by memory more than overrated sight).... And: for thirty seconds, my mobile phs blue light throws a final, last-ditch upward afterglow onto the blur of contents on my table. A unique, comforting last blurry snapshot of colour and visual beautiful confusion. And then. abruptly, finally: night. Darkness.Tired, weary eyes slowly close, in search of, in hope for: sleep. Or, even better, to dream...
Two weeks into lockdown, I brought into the sanctuary & security of my bedroom (and included on my bedside table, amongst a collage of post-surgery pills, asthma sprays, eye drops, chocolate wrappers, solitary candle,
eyewear, tiny vase with a fresh flower stolen from my front garden, glass of water). I add to this tiny jumbled array of flotsam & jetsam universe a framed photograph. taken of you & I on one of my (many) fiftieth global birthday parties... It still amazes me (to this day) that such a tiny, cheap & poorly-made picture frame, matt board & glass could (somehow! a miracle!!) contain such an immense & all-encompassing, giant, pure Leo heart
eyewear, tiny vase with a fresh flower stolen from my front garden, glass of water). I add to this tiny jumbled array of flotsam & jetsam universe a framed photograph. taken of you & I on one of my (many) fiftieth global birthday parties... It still amazes me (to this day) that such a tiny, cheap & poorly-made picture frame, matt board & glass could (somehow! a miracle!!) contain such an immense & all-encompassing, giant, pure Leo heart
as big as yours.
Perhaps the biggest and most purest of heart in all the world? Yes, my sight may be frustratingly limited & incomplete. But I see some things in this world (the important things) that no one else will ever see. Well, not in quite the same way I do, anyway. But in this small stand alone example, more blessing than curse,
now the Afterglow blur before darkness, last thing I see (wrong word, find another later perhaps, in edit)
before darkness: a warm purple & blonde & flesh-tone blur. Perhaps this is it? your giant (invisible to all but me, perhaps?) one in seven billion heart... Is this what pure, unadulterated & true love (grown in distance, apartness, not close geographical proximity) looks like? A love so big & so strong it could illuminate
& cure and light up & set on fire this broken world...
Then. Once more. Darkness. I close my eyes. Once more seeking slumber. But I still continue to see & feel your warmth, your smile, your maji, in my mind's eye. I hold it there for as long as I can.
Goodnight beautiful Leo.
I hope for the briefest of moments, you too can share (distant yet close) my unique blessing & way of seeing.
A blur of love, yearning, nostalgia, mystery and the great unknown). I wish I could find & accompany you in the sleep that follows, in the luxury of a mutual dream... but a cocktail of pandemic & pain medication may not allow this sweet, just out of reach (but hoped for all the same) luxury... I'm SO sorry (in hindsight, in all this Covid-19 madness and uncertainty) that I missed your 40th Birthday celebrations in 2019. But (zombie apocalypse or crazed American President-induced Armageddon, withstanding), I promise in nine short years (on this new, as yet unrevealed) world we're all headed towards, I will be there for your 50th, like you were there for mine. This tyranny of distance & fickle artist income won't keep us apart. And with Bowie's voice & saxophone blazing in our ears & hearts, we'll burn up the dance floor. Please: All I ask of you is this... Don't be afraid to let this blind man lead. And just for a moment (or a lifetime), with Heroes spinning on the turntable
as our magic movie soundtrack moment, I'll show you this (more blessing than curse) way I have of seeing...
My 2020 vision.
Happy 41st Birthday, A!
"Put on your red shoes & dance the blues." David Bowie
(c) Brent M Harpur 2020.
(Originally written: 3AM, 8/5/2020.)
(Originally written: 3AM, 8/5/2020.)
