Leaves in the wind

The sense of summer is almost over and the first leaves turn gold or red and some already embark upon their solitary, final journeys in the winds. There is a certain coolness upon the breeze now and for a moment I see my breath frozen before me. The dark gilt edged clouds that drift toward us from the sunset across the bay seem to foretell of more seasonal changes approaching. All change and I hope the changes are good ones.
It has been a mere few days since I was here last yet it seems to be a few days short of forever and I seem to be so close to all the deadlines. The chains and shackles bind me to a red ring scrawled across my calendar.
As with the all the best laid schemes of mice and men and apparently writers and actors too, all of our plans have changed and gone astray. But we are such adaptable creatures are we not? The vacation in Okinawa that seemed just over the horizon, in more ways than one, and was a long awaited for 'get away from everything' vacation has gone. Lost like the Shangri la horizons of James Hilton and the paradise lost of John Milton. Plan ahead and perhaps together we can leave behind the day when Janus shows his second face.

	The Moody Blues - Forever Autumn
	Found at skreemr.com

Oh look how the shadows dance gleefully across the wall to the flickering of my candles on the wrong side of midnight. A romantic notion perhaps as the reality is just of a common moth fluttering by the tall light bulb and an overactive imagination on my part as I sit and look at my half empty screen document. Of course all the optimists reading my words, will kindly point out that it must also be half full. The clock ticks loudly 'dead line tick tock dead line tick tock' and do my fingers effortlessly glide across my keys you ask?
No!
My inspiration lies broken and blood soaked out across the barren battlefields that is or was my creativity and the pages are as empty as the eyes and hearts of insincere lovers.
I mourn the passing of my muse out there amongst the wreckage of half forgotten ideas.

Hitomi is away at an address in Kobe with her dress rehearsals and in a state of distress I am invited by the temptings of distraction everywhere. I am stretched and pulled in so many different directions and if I take a single moment here or there to perhaps offer my attention elsewhere, then the fear and duress at the thoughts of empty sheets coldly grips my heart. For a moment I laugh at the play on words and in my missing her, the sheets in my statement are the bed sheets, but of course we all know that I mean the content of my manuscript sheets.
Don't I?

Next Sunday I am traveling North to Hokkaido and will spend some time at my Fathers house and leave behind the pressures and strains of the city. I feel that Otaru has a much slower pulse than here in the labyrinth. It's a lazy Sunday afternoon rather than a chaotic Monday morning.
I contemplate breakfast and my laptop sitting on bamboo furniture on the veranda with a peaceful view of the town and out over the sea. There is nothing but an occasional glimpse of a cloud, a gull and a North Korean missile disturbing an azure sky.
Adagio Jazz!

In the darkness a single lamp burns.
Here I sit in a golden cage, encouraged by the ticking clock.
The moth pretends he is free but is drawn by the light of my cage.
We are prisoners both. The quill trembles in my hand.
An ink drop falls and stains the page but it offers no clue to my direction.
Only gravity draws it to the page bottom, not the paragraphs of design.
Oh sing loudly my lament and cure me of language for it ravishes my mind.
Shall I compose a love song to empty my quill of her name?
I take my coat and take a stroll beneath a milk tea moon
Let the mischief of the night assail my senses...
Let my spinning compass be still and point me my way
Tear down these walls and let me paint my landscapes.
Don't let words fail me now.


An end now to my distractions and return my attention to the demands of the metronome pulse. That ticking clock that robs the hours from me and I shall drown it out with songs from the radio.
If you had to choose a song (or songs) to represent the autumn season, which would you choose?

Tell me that you care.