it’s like a hexagonal frame

that encompasses you, not just in the now

but you in the past, the present, and the future

it extends into the depths from which you emerged and into the depths of which you will inevitably be sucked into

and starts from the center of your vision

the core of your body

the tiniest ember that birthed the fire that is your soul

and it just whizzes past you

at a speed so fast you cannot even think to catch it let alone stop it

at a speed so slow that you witness this undoubtedly single frame multiply into thousands as it moves through you, past you, around you

at a speed or lack of speed so unrecognizable, so indistinguishable that it travels through all the bounds of time and laws of dimension

and takes you with it, but not alongside it as a companion

but caged inside of it as a prisoner

teasing you with all that it lets you see.

-S.P. Scarlett

At Unfamiliar Hours of the Day

at unfamiliar hours of the day

when the second hand ceases motion

and the minute hands gains speed

our moment is lost even before it appears.

these are the lost hours of the in between.

when our everlasting embers fade to the remnants of a dying fire

and the waning incandescence silently recedes out of the depth of our vision

yet lingers in the breadth of our souls

this is the last drop to fall from the leaf as the morning dew disappears

and the first bell to sound in the morning; the one that gets lost in our sleep.

in between the folds of our silently wrinkled sheets

in the same place you lost me.

where I fell in somewhere deep

deep into the gap between our fears and our intertwined feet

and now I float here, in this lost dimension

the in between of you and me

where at unfamiliar hours of the day

when the second hand ceases motion

and the minute hand gains speed

our moment is lost even before it appears. 

-S.P. Scarlett

Excerpt from a short story: The Sun Is Gone

I did not want to leave you.

            I still love you. The problem and solution extended far beyond anything that had to do with us. But you are the sturdy rock that lies beneath the ground. The foundation for soil and nutrients and growth. I am a cloud. I am far up in the sky, from a distance appearing solidified, but just an illusion. A collection of water vapor.

            Tell my family hello, or do not; whichever will hurt them less. You can show them this letter if you wish, but I know you will understand it best. Understand it like that time on the beach when we were playing with the smooth white stone talking about our academic abilities and I went on a rant about not wanting to be a person of habit. You understood me then. You could probably still understand me now. Even though you did not want me to go, understand I did not go away from you.

           

            I do not know where I am going, but I am at home not knowing.

           

            The sun is going down here now and I would like to go watch it until it gets dark. I think that sunsets are overrated for their present state. What they bring with them in their transition, a black canvas with burning candles of light, is the true miracle. I saw an art exhibit once and it said:

THE SUN IS GONE BUT WE STILL HAVE THE LIGHT.

-N.X. Blume

We Have Lost Time

the time is going by really fast. days do not seem to last a full 24 hours. the hour seems to pass in the time that i spent in the previous hour planning how i will be spending the following hour. hours do not last anymore, they are simply 3600 fleeting seconds, 3600 droplets of rain that i never felt touch my face. forgettable instances with no form or function, just passing time, just falling rain. there was once a time when the time was everlasting and wholly meaningful. when my soul was a bright room with echoing walls and time filled it with the most beautiful, resonating music and bounced from wall to wall, soul to heart with clarity and purity. when each moment had a pitch, a vibration, a purpose, and a resilience.

what happened to time? we lost it and these days it is nowhere to be found. will it ever come back or did we drain it of its essence. had the last droplet fallen, and that too gone unnoticed and unfelt by us? even by me, who so sweetly adored time? perhaps even i only felt this sweet adoration in its absence. 

we forgot to savor time and it elusively slipped away into unreachable depths. 

we have a problem. 

we lost time. 

we are without time, yet time defines the extent of our existence. without time, we are nothing. there is no extent to which we can reach. 

we have lost time.

we have lost ourselves. 

-S.P. Scarlett 

Leaving

A flower without water

A world immersed in darkness

A body without a soul

A mind without a heart

A being without life

Me whenever we part.

N.X. Blume