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jethro's picture

Through The Weave of Reality

Unremarkable white SUV
Sneaking quietly
Through the countryside
The Squire of Affinity
Tiptoeing gently
Through the weave of reality

jethro's picture

The Squire of Affinity

Today I walked lightly on my feet, feeling refreshed from a good (if broken) sleep. I had napped early and then watched some female warriors sparring in a match before heading back to my chambers to rest alone.
My destination was sure, the exact journey unknown as I navigated through crowds of horses and carriages conveying their passengers to the bustling commerce quarter. Many would be going to browse, purchase and taste the delights of the many vendors all clamouring for your coins. Others would be going to spend a day of drudgery; serving, washing dishes, saying please and thank you and being polite to rude rich women and passively aggressive wealthy men. Others were heading to a boring office with many corporate overlords in fantastic commerce ventures or bureaucratic government work pens. I'm not sure which I would have preferred, but I am glad I do not have to be part of that rat race.
I had wended my way into quieter streets through a leafy suburb in my carriage before leaving my team of horses and my racing cart with a valet service to be cared for until my return. Of which time I was necessarily vague, as I had a leisurely day before me. The first stop was to be a den of disrepute, although hiding behind a facade of public benevolence. The furtive meeting with the crime lord who controlled the major drug supplies around here while appearing to work out of a government office was the best cover ever I thought. He slipped me a secret handshake that let me know as I passed my gold coin over inside my palm, that his motley crew were going to give me the best private sensory experience possible. I slipped into the hidden room through the panel that didn’t look like a door, and immediately was enveloped in the mystical ambience of the industrious space. Arcane figures were silhouetted behind frosted glass windows fronting rooms of potions and bottles of mystical and exotic ingredients. These wizards were the brew masters. Kept in thrall and forced to brew their potions every day, they were the masters of their craft.
Other workers bustled around the many patrons attending to their every need. Some visitors to the establishment were bright and alert, the drugs energising them as they made conversation, often loudly, with their clients and sycophants, maybe minor family members or distant cousins. Other patrons were clearly under the spell and the grip of the many courses of drugs they had consumed, lying back glassy eyed, alone and ignored by all.
I headed for my usual chair as the staff flocked around me making their requests. Did I want my usual brew, what boosters and additives did I desire and were there any adverse effects to my previous experience? I acknowledged them all and thanked them for their service as I gave the answers. The magicians in the rear were making the best stuff and I was enjoying the rush, the clear headedness, the ability to focus and my ruthless ambition to realise my dreams that was inspired by these chemicals.
Today as I lay back and was pampered I planned on delivering some strong messages to some clients informing them I knew their risky business practices were ging to get them in trouble. However they could ensure their safety and security by employing my team of agents, technical wizards and strongmen. From others I ensured my regular extortion and protection money was being extracted and letting them know just what we had done for their protection money. They were as much reliant on us as we were on them, a symbiotic relationship if you like. The large network of spies, agents and information gatherers I had built over many years of shadowy dealings on the side of the large corporates had many rich information sources. I reached out to some of these people via secret messengers who slipped in and out of the shadows, took my notes or returned notes from the recipients. The day was advancing rapidly to the next item on my list, the port. Down here where the whistle of the gulls, the fresh salty air blowing my hair and the hoarse yelling of stevedores combined with the many scents of fish, fresh cut timber and tar, and the occasional bitter smell of tobacco and coffee as labourers took their breaks. Here I had to slip a package to a freight forward agent I had marked for reliable service. I knew from previous experience he could be relied on to get my package to my client. My own team of wizards had constructed a marvel of the ages, for which everyone hankered after. My client was desperate for the latest and best to please his mistress, and so this had been constructed especially for her desires and needs. It even included personal touches with a magical enclosed viewer that displayed her memories of her children to her, as if she was there!
I knew this gift would have my client being blessed with her favour and in turn deferential to me. I know he will become reliant on these marvels and thus my service to him assured and my riches amass.
After the port and all its bustling commerce, I will attend a luncheon, a simple repast for the time of the day when my mistress of many years will regale me with tales of dealing with the tiresome servants while we are entertained by some jesters in the background.
The afternoon is yet to be determined. I like the chaotic nature of energy that is released when just in that moment of time with no regard to past or future.
After whatever that period of time brings to me, I will press the magic buttons that summon food to my table before retiring to my entertainment chamber. No female warriors tonight, rather I have granted an audience with the researchers who are using my body to assess the gains to its athletic capability while meditating and taking ice baths.

Actual scenario - hospital for cancer chemo treatment during which I will triage my emails and bill some customers, followed by the post office where I send a new PC to a client for his wife, lunch on the couch with Jude with Netflix in the background. Dinner and a video call with the university researchers whom I have joined a study by Whoop with.

jethro's picture

What is this emotion

Went through the hard times together
28 years I’ve known ya
Roh you are never gonna be forgotten
Cos I love you mate
And you live in my heart forever and
It stinks
Cos I won’t get to hear your voice again
And that sucks
To think about this is an emotion
Raw and wide open
I don’t know what this feeling is
And it sucks
I hold all my memories of times with you dear
I’ll treasure your grin and laugh
Your endless giving of support
Your generosity of spirit
Waves of sadness are rolling off me
Grief for your loved ones
Grief for the world’s loss
Grief – what an emotion
It sucks
Memories comes to me
Snippets of video igniting afresh in my brain
Moments I’ve stored for healing in this time
Shared experiences, rallies, photos, cars, models, tech, family, hospitals, floods, the list goes on
I’m getting emotional
This side of the brain is deeply delving
Your spirit lives on

Written on the news of Rohan hills Passing
1 May 2023
© Timothy Miller

jethro's picture

A Beach Poem

The waves rhythmically lap against the shore. What seems permanent in the moment is variable and shifts over time. The sand banks of today are the gutters of tomorrrow.

A continuous line of boats and jetskis heading out to play. A heron stalking it's prey while next to it two Spoonbills are busy digging for theirs. All right in the moment.

Fishermen repeatedly cast and wind, cast and wind.
My wife and daughter are chatting in the water. Catching up on each other's busy lives in this stolen moment of peace.

The sun warms my back as it continues its inexorable march towards its destiny. A yellow billed lapwing observes me with beady eyes. What does it see? How does it value time?

My shadow reflects my every move. Crows caw. Swallows flitter and squeak. Boats creak. There is serenity in this moment. I choose to rest in the midst of turmoil.