Thursday 28 May 2015

Disillusionment

  It was a strange sensation.
  It started with the curdling of the heart, and a deep drop somewhere in the diaphragm, followed by a slow tightening of the throat, fingers writhing and an electric spark in the eye. It felt as though I had caught the flu, but had nothing of the fever, with my heart beating rapidly but no heat of the mind to speak of. Oh my heart!
  It was just me, sitting there, staring, and as the sensation came I thought of all the mountains in the world, the skyscrapers that man had built to challenge them; it was as though an earthquake had swept though the lines of tall, proud constructions -the product of nature and men- and leveled them to their knees, leaving nothing but grey dust and bland rubble. Oh my heart!
  It was more than that to me. I could not imagine anything else quite so fascinating, so unusual, yet so very wrong, so devastating that it shook me down to my very core, like a knife through a stick of butter, twisting and wrenching as it goes, bleeding oozes of yellow that resembled pus more than oil. Oh my heart!
  It occurred to me that this wasn't real, but the sensation was already in motion, and if nothing, I could not deny my feelings, for they are the only things that I can feel. I looked on as the scene unfolded horrifically, tearing apart the waxed-paper wall that I had been hiding behind for years, recoiling as the monster reached out for me, took me by the heart, and throttled it. Oh my heart!
  I shook with fear inside, for on the inside, no one can hurt me but myself.
  Was what I thought.

Thursday 14 May 2015

Indifference

Across the deep blue sea
Somebody waits for me
A beacon of hope
That I might not bemoan
The deaths of the ones I see

In tragedy we love to find
The silver lining of time
But often as not
Our efforts will rot
And our bodies will wont to die

A life lived for none
Wills a grave dug by one
We cannot foresee
The end we will meet
Never relent and be done

A horrible weeping sound
Falling in pain, to the ground
It is hard to care
When you cannot share
The pains which have you bound

But apathy gathers no gains
Do not look on in disdain
For though we are slaves
There is no worse grave
Than saying "all is in vain"

Try.

Saturday 2 May 2015

Starlight

  We run in the Sun all day to the tunes, our hands grasped tightly like the fierce embrace between mother and child, exploring the rolling plains and smelling the multitude of flowers that decorate the fresh green grass, flourishing in the eternal light of fire and moon.
  The tune changes to a show melodious one, and we stop running and turn to the sky, wondering what happened to the cheer of life and the rays that empowered our endless flight into the unknown. As we stand there and wander, we realise that the mournful song is also one of dance, and with our hands still embraced, we begin to waltz slowly, allowing the overpowering music to envelop us in her arms.
  We drift slowly from the darkened grass into the soulless unknown, our feet stepping on air as the tune continues. It hurts, but our eyes are closed and our hands are in one another's and the starlight, growing brighter, illuminates the narrow stairway where we tread. Inevitably, we become the stars in the heavens, growing brightly and giving life to the grass and flowers that once loved us, worshiped by none but revered by all.
  With our eyes we see them; holding hands and running in our light through the rolling plains and flowers, before we are snuffed out by time.