{"id":322,"date":"2010-08-04T03:37:07","date_gmt":"2010-08-04T08:37:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.martysparadox.com\/index.php"},"modified":"2014-03-24T01:24:08","modified_gmt":"2014-03-24T08:24:08","slug":"false-spring","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.martysparadox.com\/index.php\/writing\/writing-1997\/false-spring","title":{"rendered":"False Spring"},"content":{"rendered":"<h5><em>By Martin Falatic<br \/>\nWritten 1997-01-04<br \/>\nRevised 1997-01-04, 2010-08-04<\/em><\/h5>\n<div class=\"hr\">\n<hr \/>\n<\/div>\n<p>I walk towards the cloudy horizon<br \/>\nLooking out into the distant, brooding sky.<br \/>\nA season twisted as surely as my heart, lost in everlasting silence.<br \/>\nUnable to express&#8230;<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">&#8211; Stop! &#8211;<\/p>\n<p>Not in words spoken is this transcribed<br \/>\nIt cannot be, for some magic, some essence of truth or sad comedy is somehow lost in the speaking of one&#8217;s soul.<br \/>\nI can only write, as tears linger behind my eyes.<br \/>\n(For they, too, are also bound in silence.)<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">&#8211; &#8211; &#8211; &#8211;\u00a0 &#8211;<\/p>\n<p>The Wind blows softly, warm across my body in this false spring<br \/>\nMonuments of stone and mortar and steel clash against the landscape<br \/>\nFrozen in battle against Nature herself,<br \/>\nA wasteland of winter for a moment fooled by a warm breeze.<br \/>\nI walk not into the noontime sun, but into the cloudy afternoon,<br \/>\nFor the sun masks the depth of one&#8217;s soul, and darkness only hides it,<br \/>\nWhile the filtered, cloudy, mood-filled skies of a False Spring show hidden truths about ourselves.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">&#8211; &#8211; &#8211; &#8211; &#8211;<\/p>\n<p>I find myself lost in time, in place, as shorn of refuge as the forgetful squirrels that wander by me.<br \/>\nFor as I see the dilemmas, I find no solace in the answers that do not wish to be heard.<br \/>\nA peculiar feeling comes across me, as I watch the clouds drift quickly by.<br \/>\nA sense of urgency, mixed thoroughly with a sense of lost direction, lost opportunity (lost destiny?)<br \/>\nTacit surrender to a world that is as lost as I am,<br \/>\nWhich drinks the sweet nectar of ambivalence,<br \/>\nAnd finds solace in the forgetfulness that drives me mad.<\/p>\n<div class=\"hr\">\n<hr \/>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>By Martin Falatic Written 1997-01-04 Revised 1997-01-04, 2010-08-04 I walk towards the cloudy horizon Looking out into the distant, brooding sky. A season twisted as surely as my heart, lost in everlasting silence. Unable to express&#8230; &#8211; Stop! &#8211; Not in words spoken is this transcribed It cannot be, for some magic, some essence of [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":283,"menu_order":1,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"class_list":["post-322","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.martysparadox.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/322","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.martysparadox.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.martysparadox.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.martysparadox.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.martysparadox.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=322"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.martysparadox.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/322\/revisions"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.martysparadox.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/283"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.martysparadox.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=322"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}