Idea

 

I heard such iridescent rainfall turn to runoff and sunny yelling mingled everywhere with voice and whistle and the operatic noises loud then soft again, dog and breeze and wave, from earliest outsides out, having no idea that such nature amounting in unloosed meanings to be its very own music could sometime recede into silence. I opened the book that took me into my friends’ tales and fortunes, merry as is though some had their personalities, each day a more unexpected turn of events, mature perspectives as it was put with no idea whatsoever that I would one day close the book, and all the others like it, their palpability and parade, their affective news something to go by, thence then to go into the place of no books. I walked down past the houses to the friendly shop with easy to access hot food and jam doughnuts and impressively toned oranges, the emporium of et cetera, with no idea that such suburban walks under bird-rowdy trees along tram-clanging streets would ever come to a finale in a sverdrup of end things, or a quiet room of once belonging. I lived with the body in all its litheness and torsion, its limberness and tension, soft shape aching with desire or tired from the day, with no idea that the knuckle and the knee, ribcage and clunky cranium could slip up, or would let me down, let me down so this then was all of me. I spoke with the incessance that youthful insistence streams across the airwaves, of others all with names abundantly, of the thrall that travel beyond fell into in a world like this, a world of horizons, of days that triumphed magnificent shapes and colours in changing shade, with no idea even as I took a breath, that such talk was once and for all in present company sufficient, trained to say the most in a little for reasons that silence will meet when silence intervenes upon the unstoppable flow, echoing as such silence may prove. I wrote words aided solely by my adolescent mind, aided by vocabulary oft defiant of yon dictionary, their enquiring sprightliness and shimmying adjectives, with no idea such years of words and ascension of ideas would in time speak backwards to a past rather than forward to a present, let alone a future that is for others, such a future combining to forget or remember or remake those words in its own youngest thrill of discoveries. I learnt to take from the wardrobe and return to the wardrobe on hangers from earliest memory my shirts, and most effective coats, shoving and shoring them regularly along the rail to make space for other shirts and coats, with no idea that an actual moment would come that was the last time I opened a wardrobe to return a shirt, or coat, having no further call for clothing.