A Lonely Saxophonist

Wellington, Wellington
Oh, my Wellington !
What have you done
my dear Wellington
I am so mischievous to you ?

There is a whistling wind
around, yet again and again
Yes, welcome to Windy Wellington !
I don't know where all these winds
are coming from
and what messages they are bringing
They are just
blowing round the clock
whether it's a sunny day
or a stormy one
always wind, wind, wind
The leaves are rustling
on many trees
the fiery heat of the sun
is flashing golden beams
in the midday of this
January summer
Typical Wellington, of course
Windy Wellington

I am sitting on the top
of Mount Victoria
What a breathtaking view!
There are lovers around me
in their cars or sitting
on the benches
The world is forgotten
for them
at least for an hour or two
Never mind, they are the world
the way they are
talking to each other
touching and kissing
Their passionate loves
make them feel
to be born again
They are like fountains
of spurting fresh water
Let's bring a toast
to their loves

As if ordered
a lonely saxophonist plays
a reverberating music
He is heard perhaps
in all the bays and mountains
which crown Wellington
I see some people
tramping up the Mount
Are they local adventurers
or foreigners ?
There are Swedish tourists
on my mind which I met once
at the Victoria Market of Auckland.

We joked to each other
' New Zealand is down under
on the other side
of the globe
but definitely down under
for us, Swedish people '
They joked.
I reposted, just for fun
' No, Sweden is down there
on the other side of the globe '
They laughed and me too
What was funny
we all were right
at least from
the cosmic stance
Oh, God's decadency !
By the way, one of them said
You have summer now
and we have winter
Yes, and when we have winter
You are having summer
We are like two different worlds
mirroring each other
I paraphrased them

My mind and even my soul
fly to the tunes of
the saxophonist's play
high over the city
of Wellington
Windy Wellington !
Over its mountains on the outskirts
and over the Pacific tides
My goodness, how immense
is this ocean !
Never ending, seeming to be infinite !

I see the Oriental Bay
with its sand
flashing beams of gold
or perhaps mirroring
the beams from the sun
and I see also other bays
alternating with
chains of mountains
On the nearest, the Oriental Bay
many people are getting tanned
others are surfing
or staying in their yachts
All enjoying themselves

I see the City
and its financial centre
The vanguard Beehive
of which all Kiwis are proud.
The classical parliament
and something else
the Pohutucawa trees
as New Zealand itself is
But above all I see
the boundless Pacific
one I love and I hate
one which makes me happy
when I love staying
in New Zealand
my paradise
and one which makes me unhappy
every time I'm realising
how immense is this ocean
imprisoning me on this inland

One I can't cross every time I wish
Perhaps my thoughts and my soul
can reach every corner of the world
can even set fire to the rain
can enjoy a skyfall
but my body can't. Not now at least
How many times
did I sit on the shores
of the Pacific, my tormentor

Sometimes I felt myself
like Napoleon, jailed
on the inland of Saint Helena
after his defeat
at the Battle of Waterloo
I felt myself a prisoner as he was
a prisoner in a paradise
I had my own battle of Waterloo
deep inside me
which I couldn't loose
because if I lost that battle
I would be doomed
falling down, down into abyss
There were battlegrounds
ravages, defeats and victories
all of them not enough
to come out unscathed
I've been still sitting
on the shore of de Pacific
looking at but not really seeing
the mingling shadows of the waves
which were changing colours
going up and down, turning round
splashy, whirling, shimmering
like the stars mirrored by them

The sky and the ocean
were one at times, it seemed
The battle of my own Waterloo
went on till the late hours of night
Midnight was gone, the Moon too
and early morning hours
were coming on
with the rising sun
Only then I stood up
and went home
My face mirrored a triumph
The battle, my own battle of Waterloo
was won, unlike the one of Napoleon's !

Still sitting on Mount Victoria
among all these lovers
I swallow with my eyes
everything I can see
I swallow and I drink
like best nectars I ever drank
But what I hear
the saxophonist's play
makes me feel
as if I drank the whole bottle
of Johnny Walker
some Scotch Whisky or Cognac
Thanks, my lonely saxophonist !

The sounds of his play
are piercing the air
I am happy again, enjoying myself
I am in a paradise though !
Do I need anything else?
The lonely saxophonist
plays even stronger
more rhythmically
and the sounds are
with a thunder
after thunder
and echo's of thunders
in wider and wider circles
over Wellington
over the Pacific
over the whole world

Yes, the world goes round !
With me or without me !
With us or without us !
Just enjoy your life men !
I am flying again to the tunes
of the saxophonist's play
What thunders and what a music
the music of the world
Am I ... Phantom of the Opera
Under the glistening sun ?
Hiding but exposed ?
No longer willing
to stay in caves ?
Or am I just a Kiwi
like all the other Kiwis ?

Unable to fly
like the real kiwis
but though I can fly
I feel thankful for this
to the lonely saxophonist
I can fly over the Pacific
I can fly to any place
in this world
My life is borderless
nothing can imprison me
I am an eagle
flying high, high in the sky
filled with enthusiasm
happy and carelless forever
Thanks my dear saxophonist

Wellington, Wellington
Oh, my Wellington !
What have you done
my dear Wellington
I am so mischievous to you ?

" A Lonely Saxophonist "
Copyright © Thaddeus Hutyra , 2013

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