the vanities of ages

The vanities of ages

This being vain about our times

is surely now a vice,

where before it became a curse.

Imagination, memory, forsaken

denial triumphs.

A catastrophe of the age,

this reckless assumption

that now is surely

the best of times,

history finally ended.

All of now,

thus made righteous,

these being unlike

any other times.

No illusion this,

to blind us.

No bubble this

to ever burst.

Our centurions will forever

guard our walls,

ever watchful for the

return of the barbarians

without,

secure in the knowledge

there are none

within.

Flash Fiction Four

Finding the Right Book

Lying on a park bench I found it.  The book was lying there, not me.  It was a random book, randomly placed.  I’d heard this idea before.  Leave a book you had in a public place, hoping someone would pick it up. How far would it travel?  You would never know.

Mind you, once you let a book go you have no control over it.  It’s the old stone in the pond idea, watching the ripples spread.  Random books randomly placed have mysterious power.

You don’t know what happens next.

I sat down beside the book and opened it.  Inside  was a list in various handwritings, of where the book had been.

Who started the journey in Lewisham, London?  I’ll never know.  The book travelled then from Lewisham, London, to Green Alley, Athy, to “beside the Claddagh, Galway.”  Across the Atlantic to Battery Park, NY.  Then there were places I didn’t recognize all over the States.  Somehow it ended up back in Ireland beside me, park bench, Kilkenny Castle.

If you’re thinking of playing this game mind your bookmarks.  Friends of mine once left embarrassing photos in a book, followed by a frantic search of library shelves!  Like the stone in the pond you don’t know where the ripples will go.

In my found book there was a scrap of paper with an e-mail address.  I have both in my hand boarding the outbound plane.  Thank you Miss Austen for “Persuasion.”