technicolour

In the distance its jewel colours had enticed, a siren song in technicolour.
As we journeyed its golden heart beat out the pace of our steps.

Now though we stopped, stock still, here at the edge bound behind a rough splinted fence. Our view framed by chicken wire Tudor windows.

In places, holes had been cut, bent by the shapes of those who had gone before, those who’d dared to go. To what we now called The Other Side.

No one had the words to explain this sight. Here in the near view alien space ships hovered, not clouds. The sea and sky framed the unreal, unknowable.

Unable to resist some followed the gone before’s, crawling through the gaps, they swam off and disappeared.

We stared, our memories of them reduced to sand shaped footsteps that all knew would vanish into history at the changing of the tide.

Now came decision time. Did we follow, stay where we were or return?
Back to that devil we had always known.

Did we though always want to know? Our did we want a different future, a different day, different horizons, a different way?

Lost in indecision's maze, we sat for hours, some said days.
Inevitably time divided with each unrelenting slice of its scythe.

When its work was done, three groups stood tall, The Stay Behinds, The Undecided and The Gone Aways.