10/07 Imagining a beautiful death, at peace. |
There's a lot more to Canadian traffic than motorways and sidewalks, Rainbow and Peace Bridges, and Clifton Hills or Yonge St. Before the Yukon toward The Aleutian Islands, beyond the QEW and Le Colisee and every Tim Hortons at the rest stops along the way. While people bustle along in their respective provinces, the waterways with their whitecaps sing an orchestra of harmonial value that only few could imagine to dream of hearing on a crisp, October day. On a crisp, October day, the leaves have changes and we see their ends. But when Niagara falls, where does it land or does it get up again? The squirrels, they seem to run this landscape so fair as if they were a mafia bartering acorns for cash and "Listen, I know where your stash is so vacate quietly or we'll run you over," unaware that maybe any squirrel's nuts could be anywhere and everywhere all over. To them it's a world; all one has to do is look. All one has to do is look. The Horseshoe Falls from 150 feet back away from the drop-off, toward the left on the United States' side provides a picturesque postcard offering everything imaginable in the scenic eye of a well-wisher, a heartfelt romantic, tasteless alcoholic and everyone in between. Drop your quarters in the viewfinder so you can soak it all in and begin to look around the country-cutting deluge. As you're looking around, notice the branches, bushes and rocks. They lay silent while the womb water for the world spins, thrashes and panics against them. The agony that flows throughout is at once not only breathtaking, but reminiscent of every cycle of lives that change. Take a picture of any step at any time so you can look back just to see your changes. Your change might not be as dramatic as mine when viewing The Falls. If death is an end to all living then there is no better place to end but there. Save the flailing; save the torture. There is no pain lost in a life so lost among sidewalks and sidestreets, billboards and high-rises, and all that is to be or not to be. When I know of a day that the end is near, may I make no other choice than to go so peacefully. Amidst the chaos and frequency, no wave, rock or crest will curtail me. I'll be at my peace; with them I shall be one. I shall be one with the defenseless, wingless birds hopping around the manicured park. Too scared to flee and too disheveled to know better. Smart enough to attack, but can't. Won't. There isn't flight if there isn't life beyond this pretentious yet idolatrian environment. The way down is never so pretty. But it is! But it is! Yes it is, compared to a curtailed lifestyle when slung amongst the spoiled and being left for dinner when the squirrel mafia demands a return. I offer myself a life in return. Passing back through the exploratory areas, exhibits and forced gift-shop experiences, I would wander over to approximately 150 feet back away from The Horseshoe Falls drop-off. This is the arrogance and beauty of mind vs. sea. Drop your quarters in the viewfinder, for I am at peace. Admire the waves and their presence; admit that all that could've been done was done. It was what it was but was never lived up to what it should've been. May the wingless birds cheer when one of them becomes the end to one of them. The end comes without fury against crashing idiosyncracies. When I get there, a life lived to its limit will perch over the rail and outside of the cameras with every hope of living undiscovered and subsequentially dying so anonymously. Smoke and shot in hand, I promise to freefall with the same arms spread wide that I offered to almost everyone. Turn the camera on to collect my smile for the last time, because now it's real. And this thought becomes so surreal. As I exhale my last breath of Canadian exhaust on the less-attractive New York side, I wave to signal love with such a feeling that life will move on after my treacherous swim into the unknown. Everyone will settle eventually as I become the past. An unknown quantity am I, misused and underrepresented. I pass on regret. I railed for my righteousness against a normal flow. So this is... now here I go! I climb the rails with my arms outstanding and smile as the cameras, squirrels and wingless birds watch as I show them how it is to be so dignified. How to breathe freely without stress or constraint. I wanted more like they did but couldn't achieve. That's their life cycle, but this is mine. I become mine. I hit motionless, hitting what I hit. I no longer detour, I just devour the last chance that existence has given me. I glide the waves and manuever the water like an unmanned surfboard, not minding collision nor worrying the consequence. I break the water entranced. My horseshoe fell a long time ago and I lived on the feeling of never going back again. The water becomes as emotionless as I am and I sail my human boat over the edge of the rocky, unforgiving crags that have permeated my equilribrium. Those that hate me will have their validation. The ones who love me will understand. Love me for who I am, even if you know I'm not so much. When I hit that sea I'll be at peace with no concern toward the outcome. I've already known. There's no warmer, safer place to go. Float me friskily and feverently down the locks like I've always led myself to and let the Niagara carry my soul to a well-deserved goodbye. I don't wish to make traffic stop but I have no idea how to make it not. I've given up on getting my way. I am Canadian traffic with my dollar on par and no economy to spend it on. I prefer the waterways to the walkways and the walkaways. I'll plant a nice space in the riverbed, perhaps never to be discovered. Deep inside Canadian traffic, I'll go unfound and when I hit the water all I touch will make no profound sound, just like now. |