at 3 am
dead of night
the man gets out of bed
leaves his sleeping wife to her dreams
how long had he been asleep?
he stood naked in the darkened living room
as a moonless night stretched above the house
he checked on the children
who slumbered restfully
in his own workroom
he sat dazzled under the light
boxes of pastels and and a half finished portrait
guitars lying around in cases
pastel colours squashed into the carpet
a yoga mat
a vase with fake flowers
a small chest of drawers
an amplifier
books on art
a bin full of v cans and fiji water bottles
a printer
paints in tubes all squeezed and that
boxes full of papers and statements
a bookcase full of books
two desks one full of art and memorabilia
the other with computer and drawers with accounting
and bits and pieces
on the wall hangs a self portrait
a postcard of kali
a poster advertising a long passed exhibition
photos of children
botticellis rape of the nymph by zephyrus (detail)
some russian saint with a kid swaddled up tight
a tree in a pot with two wooden birds
the man sits in the quiet of 3 am
nothing anywhere seems to move
only the man awake in this city of millions
the clocks incessant tick tick never tock fades
the man hears it
oh so faint a sound
like a beautiful hum
like the voice of a dreambeing
was he really ever even hearing it
the man who is half asleep
listens
for the direction of the sound
the tiny warm humming
silvery sound
coming from his third drawer
he opens the drawer
pulling out bits of paper
and khaki envelopes
and sticky tape
a deck of cards
the little hammer slender and deadly
there
in that little bag
he pulls the bag out
is it emitting a signal or not
it seems to be silent
no the man thinks
no i must have been mistaken
absent mindedly
he empties the bags contents on his desk
a piece of crystal
shaped like a small phallus
its body cloudy and veined with tiny white lines
its head is clear but becomes a smoky grey on the very tip
a piece of paper says
lemurian crystal
the man thinks
he remembers a charity event a year ago or so
a woman
god he cant even see a face now
a woman relatively unremarkable
insomuch as he had no memory of her
she seemed shy
she had said something briefly
handed him the bag
and disappeared into the thinning crowds
he had glanced briefly at the crystal
oh how nice he had thought
it ended up in his drawer for a long while
but somehow now
it had made its presence felt
lemurian crystal said the little bit of paper
and something else too small for him to read
at this time of night with no glasses
he held the crystal in his hand
it gave off a slight warmth
like the sound he thought he’d heard
it fitted into his palm
like a weapon or a wand
he could feel a subtle pull on his energy
an exchange
as the crystal absorbed
and in return gave out
lemurian crystal
semi conductor
a transducer
the man turned off the light
he sat in the darkness
with the crystal in his left hand
miles away and years ago
the crystal emanated its information
the man sat and he listened
listened to something
that made no sound
at all