There has always been consequences for the things
I’ve believed to be truth. The way each maple leaf falls slowly as if it were
being laid down by the hands of the afternoon breeze. Circumstances led me to
assume the very same thing, that some invisible force was ruling the position
of my livelihood. I feared I would succumb to the changes and to the thoughts
that mankind had put inside my soul. In fact was it the beauty that chased them
away or the silence I gave them from it. They removed me from the world and
banished the very existence I had been given at birth. My name sake some sort
of mockery, the timing for fame had ended abruptly. I am closed off from this
viscous world, a torment by the pleasure in me. I am living.
My concentration broke and I was at the worst of
them. Breathing under strict rule of where and when I was to leave and bleed my
words and to whom. My glued eyes shut I reminisce in a once victorious land. I
stand alone at the battle field of the mercenaries. I am a king if not a queen
to the trap of solitude. I am the heir to a terrible crumbling kingdom. With
cruel intent I will seek them out to become more than just a maiden in a
chamber. There will be blood as there always is the red stain among the men in
history.
Wishful thinking tells us that we are longer good,
we are longer able. Who is the judge in the case? The ruler that signifies us
disruptive. For a short time we may live out the remaining years will a solemn
prayer of being an achievement of the human race, but you see that is the
mistake we are all in a race.
Hills and valleys will let us know if our succession
is relevant or rather a mistake of guidance on our elders part. We are children
being led away with a string or a rope, led to another world where our
imagination is held captive and our irrelevant lives became purposeful.
We stood through streams and creeks remembering our
fallen brothers. The cold chills turning over the aged rocks, exposing secrets
my lovely sisters kept. A dark hidden past was one thing and then another when
the light made it glow. Terminal, the position our beloved on us. Our potion
was a category for defeat and victory was not on the contents of victory.
Sacrifice on the other hand was a very big ingredient in the poison.
Fruit taken from the tempting tree were we all at
the devils hands, tug graves and cutting corners. There was music in the air.
Swirling the temptations of what had come and what had not. We would not last
the night, the morning dew taking the place of our final determination. Trembling
words fluctuated around the matters of factual and factious.
Could you remind me of my crime dear sir? Could you
so ever gallantly refresh my deprived memory of the crimes you accuse of me
committing?
There was a line I had drawn upon the fallen walls
of the kingdom we called home. White marks leading up and down and curve to
remind us we were never to be left alone in this day in this age, we were
prisoners. We were the answer to the most disgusting of questions.
The solutions for a match made in ever. Our
turbulence qualified for a ok landing, but there was nothing and we stood for
exactly that.
Remove the contacts from your thoughts and memories
and who is left if not you to make them account for something. Who is left if
not you who bring the others to life? You bring them to a whole other realm of
living, the breath of excitement exists only in the power of your thought, your
touch.
A piece at a time. One step after another, reminded
of the crime.
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