Beyond the Purple Haze
Somewhere, beyond the purple haze on the furthest horizon, beyond a dream, beyond the place where echoes are born, there’s something for which I long, a vision of a time and a place, of a feeling rousing from the depths of my soul.
It’s a shared vision, primordial, primeval, an ancient prophecy slumbering among inchoate tides; we just don’t know if it’s what we had at the beginning or what we hope for in the end, only that it’s what we all deserve, and that it’s as simple as a newborn’s first sigh.
It’s as close as our next breadth, as the dream we’ll dream tonight, as a mother’s love, as a father’s sacrifice; but still, too far to realize while we wander, lost in time and space, deeply lost in nightmares from which we can’t awake.
It’s the new dawn rising and the late sun setting, it’s a kiss and a sigh and the warm aftermath of a foolish fight, it’s the look of blind faith in a young child’s heart, it’s a parent’s despair in an endless night, it’s a meal taken for granted and enlightenment’s light.
All the simple things that make life worth living and which so few of us have. Nothing fancy, just the daily grind with the daily rewards that make things right. It’s been calling and asking why the doors are locked so tight, but it seems nobody’s home.
We’ve all been out diligently looking for fight to win or an argument to ignite.
Somewhere, beyond the purple haze on the furthest horizon, beyond a dream, beyond the place where echoes are born, the things for which we long sit waiting in the dark, wondering; visions of a time and a place, of a feeling rousing from the depths of our souls.
 © Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2010; all rights reserved