convention – penned in moon dust

Held together by determination

the glue is my own recipe

one that none can read

Unclean, unacceptable, unnnnn

I never fit into your world

your scissors cut me long ago

in the dusty disregard pile

and there I remain in your mind

(but not so in mine)

A blue spring breeze went off course

entered through un-mended crack

grabbed the discard pile

into the sky I was cast

laughter with the sun, what I have become

with moonlight I often dance

I tease edges of starry chance

no more the stain, your chagrin

skipping over yesterdays fails

for this I finally learned

“you can only define something that allows it”

too free to allow your opinion to burn

altered by whimsy’s determination

held together by life’s blend

my label none can read it

unless you too dance with the wind

I remember it like it was yesterday – the clock stopped at quarter til the hour.

I was on an outbound train going where I couldn’t remember

That was the crazy part – no one remembered what they were supposed to do next.

Looking back I’m not sure if we stopped when time stopped or if a frozen state ensued from not knowing what to do when time stood still.

Some people stood as if in denial.

I think they were willing time to do something different.

Others, I am sure, were afraid to move as if the clock would crack and the “sameness” of life with it.

My life course changed profoundly that night.

I was bound for University. You know settle into a routine, surrounded by fellow students and books, go the requisite number of parties and games.

Each student predictably going the same general direction that was pre-ordained for us by our professors.

For me, at the moment when time stood still, something clicked like the second hand of life rebelled.

I grabbed up my things and started walking. There were a few others who independently decided to do the same thing.

We walked into the night and haven’t stopped. A few people with the same mindset have joined us along the way.

It’s curious, even after years, we notice in every town we come to there is a group of people staring at a clock with the large hand on the 9.

Today’s Daily Post (writing) prompt: For a moment today, time stands still — but you can tweak one thing while it’s stopped. What do you do?

And the photo prompt: Stillness

I guess my tweak was to break the rules when the time stopped and write a short sci-fi interpretation of the prompt.

Here you will find excellent responses to today’s prompt:

Tag: convention