Home > life, love, lyrics > no bridges were burned in the making of this post

no bridges were burned in the making of this post

I’m still dazed. It’s amazing what an hour – not even – out in this weather will do to you. There are sunspots in my eyelids and fast-fading grass tattoos on my arms. I sat outside, attempting to decipher Freud, with the company of my iPod, a half-pint of soursweet blueberries, and a small single-serve packet of Cabot cheese. Yes, I was also pleasantly surprised that the tangy blueberries were so well complemented by the thick full taste of the cheddar. I sucked on them both, adding more of one when the other began overwhelming my mouth and tongue. I skimmed half-heartedly over musty words on dream analysis and patient stories.

As the bag thinned of berries and shade began licking at my lap from the canopy overhead, I gave up on Freud and eyed the sunlit grass eagerly. The breeze tugged urgently at my skirt, and I wondered at the nostalgic power of wind. The movement of air, carrying memories and scents in its wake. I freed my feet of sandals and spread lustfully onto the lawn, stretching inactive muscles and basking in the warmth of the sun. Tucking my skirt stragetically between my legs, I lay half-curled, half-awake, letting the sun re-energize me and the breeze comfort me.

Time passed in the movement of the clouds. Halfway through a music track that I’ve already forgotten, the sun became tucked behind an unforgivably large cloud, and I rose unsteadily to my feet, shivering. How transient, warmth! But the energy that had collected under the veins of my skin surged, and I danced back into my sandals. Picking up the forgotten Freud and devouring the remaining few blueberries, I blinked away the sun from my eyes and headed back inwards. To the hazy fluorescence and closeness of my dorm. No clouds here. No passage of time.

But the nostalgic power of the wind remains, as if I breathed too much in, and it is swirling in the pit of my stomach. There are tears there, and heavy sighs. My mouth is the only stopper to the whirlwind, and it stays shut, for now. Already I am hungry again for the sunlight and the urgency of the breeze.

Hurry, hurry, hurry. Tugging memories from deep inside, from something so primal and raw that I have no control over it. Quickly. The deep-seated emotions are drawn out from a past I don’t remember, and the destination seems to be somewhere in the unimaginable, unspeakable future. A point of merging hopes, fears, dreams, and unknowns.

This song has always haunted me. Perhaps there is something to all this abstract babbling, that this song should play at this moment. O, prophetic iPod…

Phantom:
Past the point of no return
No backward glances
Our games of make-believe are at an end.

Past all thought of “if” or “when”
No use resisting
Abandon thought and let the dream descend

What raging FIRE shall flood the soul
What rich desire unlocks its door
What sweet seduction lies before us?

Past the point of no return
The final threshold;
What warm unspoken secrets
Will we learn
beyond the point of no return?

Christine:
You have brought me
To that moment when words run dry
To that moment when speech disappears
Into silence
Silence.

I have come here,
Hardly knowing the reason why
In my mind I’ve already imagined
Our bodies entwining
Defenseless and silent,
Now I am here with you
No second thoughts
I’ve decided
Decided.

Past the point of no return
No going back now
Our passion-play has now at last begun.

Past all thought of right or wrong
One final question:
How long should we two wait before we’re one?

When will the blood begin to race
The sleeping bud burst into bloom
When will the flames at last consume us?

Both:
Past the point of no return
The final threshold
The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn
We’ve passed the point of no return.

Phantom:
Say you’ll share with me
One love, one lifetime
Lead me, save me from my solitude

Say you want me
With you here , beside you
Anywhere you go let me go too
Christine that’s all I ask of…

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Categories: life, love, lyrics
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