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At a certain instant, you become aware of your place in the world. The world that moves even with eyes closed. The people you have always known, and the life you have always lived are forever preserved by this perspective. How long has it been? What day did I first watch rain fall from the sky? You stare through a foggy window out to a beautiful lake. It’s still rough out there. The sun is setting, but you have the chair you’ve come to love. And the people you have come to know. You close your eyes. The sounds from your past can not be stolen from their time. The smells and sights are locked and serve only now as motivation to once again fall in love. Either everything is justified or nothing is. Rain pitter patters on the roof above your head. The roof you made. Your eyes open again and the boat rocks in the waves. Water is coming right to the front door and you hear giggling just on the other side of the cabin. They are the ones who justify it all. The ones you made. The ones who made you. You see the water spray white mist as it pounds the rocky shoreline and the rain falls harder. A smile grows on your face and now you smell wet pine, a personal favorite. You hear the crackling of a fireplace behind you and faintly, women’s voices nearby. You pull yourself from your chair and prop yourself up on a your cane by the window. A waterfall is cascading across the lake, and your own creek is flooding nearby. You begin to hum a melody you have always hummed. The one that you brain always went to while at rest. It is truly your song. The rhythm that has never been the best, but will be the thing you always remember. You crack the sliding door open and you can now hear the rain roaring outside. Thunder rumbles the skies and you can see the last sunbeams shooting through gray clouds as the sun falls behind the tallest peaks. As you stand in the doorway, a cougar walks slowly on the porch in front of you, paying you no attention. It passes by and then before starting up the steep hill into the thick it passes you one glance. You remember your father. You remember your mother. Torn between laughter and tears you step out in to the rain. You start down the path you’ve always walked. To the creek where you first found love. As the distance between you and the cabin grows the voices become quieter and all is drowned out by the rain pounding the earth. You could travel this way with your eyes closed. The willow tree is drenched. Its roots covered only by the water. You take one moment to remember it all as well as you can, before turning to face the creek. Rushing harder than it has ever been, even during your hardest times. You sit on a rock and aim your face to the sky. “Are you ready to remember” A voice in your head speaks. “Not just yet” You reply. And you pull yourself up and start back towards the cabin. You can see the water from the path and out on the water is a boat. There are people you do not recognize on the boat. But they are waving to the cabin. You begin to hurry to the cabin now and your heart is racing. As you reach the porch you see that the lights inside are off. No fire is burning. The rain is stopping. You come around the corner and there is no one through the windows. The sliding door is wide open and there is a cup of coffee steaming, sitting on the arm of your chair. As you sit in it you see the fog clearing and stars pop up in the sky. The sun has left the valley and the lake is calming. You see fish jumping up from the water and you hear the creek settle. Across the lake you see the waterfall drying up. You pull open the drawer in the nightstand in front of you and you take a pencil and pad of paper. You look up in time to see your boat sinking under the waterline. You begin to write and watch the raindrops drip off the edge of the roofing and on to the porch. Slower and slower they drip. Your hand is compelled and writes autonomously. Thoughts which you’ve never had spill from your arm on to the paper. The raindrops begin to fall slower, as if time itself were slowing. You ponder the last words on the page “The boat is leaving”. And set the paper down. You stand up from your chair and exit out through the sliding glass door. You make your way down the stone steps and the water is gently flowing onto the dock. As you walk down the long dock toward the water the waves gently splash against the dock and water washes your feet. “I am ready to remember.” You say confidently. And you begin running. But as you’re running time seems to be slowing more and more until your bounds take seconds. Only feet from the edge of the dock you grin widely. “One more moment in my world.” You whisper as you dive confidently. You wave once more to the cabin. And then sun at last sets on the valley. “You’re safe here.”


from Happy Little Bee, released June 23, 2017



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Culver Polley Chelan, Washington

Hi, im Culver and i make music :)

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