Saturday, 18 December 2010

T.Rex, "The Visit"



* Marc Bolan took a visit to one of his many dreams which was scattered with inexplicable patterns. Logic played the unwelcoming intruder.


I had a dream last night of the world turning into one of those settings in Harold Pinter's plays.
The world was practically normal; virtually silent with no other characters except myself.
The grave silence of the setting foregrounded the fastidiousness of one's ear.
The intermittent sound of a flushing toilet was acutely audible, interspersed with the throbs of my heart.
Suddenly a shadow fleeted through the window.
The queerest happened as I presumed the passing figure as a mere harmless passerby.
I, who is always suspicious of things, be it only a absentminded glance, succumbed to the mysteriousness in an enigma-rousing environment!

Then, like every other dream, my legs jellied.

Some spend the day muse about the most improbable,
or squander their doubts on trivialities.
The others seize their day permitting the hours slip through their fingers;
never panic too much even when the sky is a few stories lower.
Cast either of the two in my dream,
and make that passing figure an ominous assassin.
With or without notice,
both will be assailed

like a daisy being trampled in a wasteland.
The writer bears the sole witness.
Meticulously he details the process of the daisy's final moment on his notebook,
embellishes it with florid language and fantastical imagination.
He is at pains of saving the poor daisy's life,
the scene of her termination be the only prey on his mind.

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"Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:- Do I wake or sleep?"- John Keats, "Ode to a Nightingale"

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