Eagle

You think you know what’s real, but we all see a different red. Mine is a deep and pulsing hue, a crimson that coats the light of stars so many galaxies away. If you could see it too, you would understand how all the pieces connect, how the constellations draw a map to the edge of the Atlantic and the sand there whispers where next to go as I walk it with bare toes, just as I was meant to.

You tell me it’s delusion, but the entirety of our existence is based on the lies our own brains feed us, images giftwrapped as Ultimate Truth. I know enough to question the things seen at first glance, and I have begun to find what lies beneath. One, two, three. The clock ticks away the seconds, but what about the time in between? You cannot clearly see the rotation of a hummingbird’s wings (for it is a rotation, not a flapping), and yet this is the only thing that keeps it in the air.

Between the radio waves, there is a voice that calls. Inside the television static, a face is forming, mouthing words I don’t yet understand. But one day, I will. If I listen hard enough and watch close, I can collect the forgotten pieces ignored by the rest of the world. Perhaps I can even save it.

It’s okay if you won’t listen, because I will. It’s okay if you can’t see, because I can be your eyes. Do not presume to know the depths of my sanity simply because it is not a reflection of your own. I am the eagle soaring above, privy to things not in your view. There are simply places you have not attempted to travel. You are busy. You have things to do. You do not catch the signs that connect the dots that form the picture in my head. You tell me it’s made up, that I’ve created something that doesn’t exist, but what is a placebo if not a capsule of nothing that relieves the pain only because you think it will? I am not in pain. I am only awake.

I don’t blame you, of course, for staying in the place where you are. For laughing at what you believe are impossibilities and thinking no more of the still and silent corners barely wandered. After all, it’s warm there. Safe. But not so long ago, science was magic and the moon was untouched. Not so long ago, you and I were dust (and will be again).

We do not know what waits in the ocean’s deepest caverns, but at least I wonder about it. I am following the answers now, the voices that hum in my ears and bicker like old friends and find me in the dark. I’ll tell you when I’ve come to the light at the end, and perhaps we can share in the meaning of it all together. If you don’t want to, I’ll understand.

Dogs see only in blue and gray and yellow, and it seems they are a happy bunch.