The Dandelion Clock
May. 13th, 2013 10:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maychorianLong time no see, LJ. I'm not much in fandom at the moment, except for occasionally reading fanfic and even more occasionally checking my flist.
I've been writing a lot lately, but it's been original. I'm trying to become someone who makes money off her writing. :) And then, maybe, when I can quit my factory job and write full-time, I will have the time and energy for fanfic again. Maybe. Who knows. I'm also going back to school this summer, so my schedule will be even more nutso crazy-face.
But here's five hundred words I wrote this morning on my work laptop while waiting for IT to come and set up my network connection so I could work. (I'm on my break right now.) It's kinda tone-poemish.
The Dandelion Clock
The dandelion clock floats lazily over the pond. The frightened child screams for his mother. The dandelion clock cares nothing for the child, but the breeze of the scream pushes the dandelion clock further along in a different direction. Fish shimmer and move beneath the water, creating tiny currents that eddy, then die. The breeze is unaffected by what happens in the world below the surface. And, carried by the breeze, the dandelion clock is unaffected, too.
The dandelion clock floats lazily over the field. The lowing cow swishes its tail. The dandelion clock cares nothing for the cow, but the breeze of the swish pushes the dandelion clock further along in a different direction. Mice scurry and gather seeds in the grass, rustling the stalks in furtive movements that shake the grass, then die away. The breeze is unaffected by what happens in the world below the grass. And, carried by the breeze, the dandelion clock is unaffected, too.
The dandelion clock floats lazily over a town. The bell in the church tolls the hour, loud and ringing. The dandelion clock cares nothing for the time, but the breeze of the toll pushes the dandelion clock further along in a different direction. People bargain and bake and teach and debate below the roofs in the many houses, creating movement in their own world that carries to a few others, but rarely any farther. The breeze is unaffected by what happens in the world below the roofs. And, carried by the breeze, the dandelion clock is unaffected, too.
The mind of the dreamer floats lazily over the world. The oceans heave, the clouds fly, and the volcanoes push their gas and dust into the air. The mind of the dreamer cares nothing for the cycle of the Earth, but the movement of the spheres pushes the mind of the dreamer further along in a different direction. Nations rise and fall and devour each other beneath the vault of the sky, creating movements that churn and destroy and enrichen and impoverish, then fall away into the dustbin of history. The movement of the spheres in unaffected by the world below the sky. And, carried by the movement of the spheres, the mind of the dreamer is unaffected, too.
The spaceship floats lazily over the solar system. The sun flares, the planets spin, the comets burn, and the asteroids crash and shudder against each other in their belts of debris. The spaceship cares nothing for the decay of the system, but the solar wind from the sun pushes the spaceship further along in a different direction. Worlds turn, silent in space, while the people and creatures and plants on the surface of Earth are subject to all the physicality of dirt-bound life. The solar wind is unaffected by the planets below the solar disk. And, carried by the solar wind, the spaceship is unaffected, too.
Deep within the bowels of the spaceship, within the mind of the dreamer, the dandelion clock floats lazily over the pond.
I've been writing a lot lately, but it's been original. I'm trying to become someone who makes money off her writing. :) And then, maybe, when I can quit my factory job and write full-time, I will have the time and energy for fanfic again. Maybe. Who knows. I'm also going back to school this summer, so my schedule will be even more nutso crazy-face.
But here's five hundred words I wrote this morning on my work laptop while waiting for IT to come and set up my network connection so I could work. (I'm on my break right now.) It's kinda tone-poemish.
The Dandelion Clock
The dandelion clock floats lazily over the pond. The frightened child screams for his mother. The dandelion clock cares nothing for the child, but the breeze of the scream pushes the dandelion clock further along in a different direction. Fish shimmer and move beneath the water, creating tiny currents that eddy, then die. The breeze is unaffected by what happens in the world below the surface. And, carried by the breeze, the dandelion clock is unaffected, too.
The dandelion clock floats lazily over the field. The lowing cow swishes its tail. The dandelion clock cares nothing for the cow, but the breeze of the swish pushes the dandelion clock further along in a different direction. Mice scurry and gather seeds in the grass, rustling the stalks in furtive movements that shake the grass, then die away. The breeze is unaffected by what happens in the world below the grass. And, carried by the breeze, the dandelion clock is unaffected, too.
The dandelion clock floats lazily over a town. The bell in the church tolls the hour, loud and ringing. The dandelion clock cares nothing for the time, but the breeze of the toll pushes the dandelion clock further along in a different direction. People bargain and bake and teach and debate below the roofs in the many houses, creating movement in their own world that carries to a few others, but rarely any farther. The breeze is unaffected by what happens in the world below the roofs. And, carried by the breeze, the dandelion clock is unaffected, too.
The mind of the dreamer floats lazily over the world. The oceans heave, the clouds fly, and the volcanoes push their gas and dust into the air. The mind of the dreamer cares nothing for the cycle of the Earth, but the movement of the spheres pushes the mind of the dreamer further along in a different direction. Nations rise and fall and devour each other beneath the vault of the sky, creating movements that churn and destroy and enrichen and impoverish, then fall away into the dustbin of history. The movement of the spheres in unaffected by the world below the sky. And, carried by the movement of the spheres, the mind of the dreamer is unaffected, too.
The spaceship floats lazily over the solar system. The sun flares, the planets spin, the comets burn, and the asteroids crash and shudder against each other in their belts of debris. The spaceship cares nothing for the decay of the system, but the solar wind from the sun pushes the spaceship further along in a different direction. Worlds turn, silent in space, while the people and creatures and plants on the surface of Earth are subject to all the physicality of dirt-bound life. The solar wind is unaffected by the planets below the solar disk. And, carried by the solar wind, the spaceship is unaffected, too.
Deep within the bowels of the spaceship, within the mind of the dreamer, the dandelion clock floats lazily over the pond.
