Blessed

She danced there. It was fall and the cold days were ahead. The trees and their changing leaves bent and creaked in defiance of a strong wind. Her soft feet pounded down the hard earth around the giant fire. The whole forest seemed to drink in this energy and we were all refreshed, all the creatures of the woods.

With my back to a strong youthful tree, I took in the scene. Some others had joined her in the dance, circling the fire, laughing together, holding hands. I was never much for dancing. Never felt good enough. Never understood that your body speaks to you. Never listened deeply as I did tonight.

But I've been wounded by the old world so much that I still can't dance. At least I'm here. So many are not.

As she passed, she winked at me. When she blessed me so I always felt like we were the only two people in the world. My sight focused only on that subtle move and the half-smile which in an instant was gone. Like a recipe:

1 cup seductive
1 tbsp playful
a pinch of joy
combine wet and dry ingredients

I had loved her now for years, through many changes and challenges. When the click of computer keys counted down the days, I often exclaimed how fast life happened. Now I know that this phenomenon was just a lie; time sped up for humans because our souls longed for reality, to be released from a twisted prison. Time moves slowly in the real world, moments like these last and are recalled vividly.

Much like her infective smile, her tattoo, magically coloured, shone in the darkness below the branches. All the colours, the time, the creativity. It was the best of the dead world now abandoned like a plastic bag in the wind. We still all wondered at it. Painted on her shoulder, I once noticed person after person crane to catch a glimpse of it. Often they went away the mystery unsatisfied while for me it was like a lover's hidden gift, a painting only for me to know truly.

Humans could no longer produce such things of beauty and much like our Mona Lisas or just base creations like our expressways and tall buildings, one day it would fade and wither and become something new. Nothing was designed to last, least of all our soft flesh or our pathetic attempts at immortality; beautiful things would come and go. And in this moment, in this place, that was right.

She also liked to sing for all of us and we loved her all the more for it. Later that night as the embers took over, she struck up one of our favourites:

Karma police, arrest this man
He talks in maths
He buzzes like a fridge
He's like a detuned radio

Karma police, arrest this girl
Her Hitler hairdo is
Making me feel ill
And we have crashed her party

This is what you get
This is what you get
This is what you get when you mess with us

Karma Police
I've given all I can
It's not enough
I've given all I can
But we're still on the payroll

This is what you get
This is what you get
This is what you get when you mess with us

And for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself
Phew, for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself

For for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself
Phew, for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself


Will our children still sing this song? What will they make of it? Hitler, fridge, radio, hairdo, maths, all gone. Karma they might understand but police?

If we build the new world on moments like these we might have a chance for them never to know that unfortunate word.