Force of Nature
The cold was a sledgehammer. It burrowed into the deepest of places; reverberated through the trees, their limbs bare and shaking. Leaves were an emerald dream forgotten, not even given the time to turn envious shades of red and gold. The whole world seemed to have been frozen solid and was effected within moments of the frigid breaths arrival and yet it felt years heavy. Nothing moved, nothing stirred. Whatever had made it to the safety of den or burrow or nest stayed as still as the thick white powder above. Powder that was like quicksand; quicksand that groped for your feet with lusty hands, trying to pull you down to icy slumber.
Night romanced the silver echos sent down from the waning crescent moon. Eerie ghosted fingers of light and even they seemed hesitant to touch this begotten ground. Not a sound came from anywhere. No noise of breathing beings, no calls or cries and certainly no song of life, though there was life here, once. Whatever remained in this place became a part of it. White of bone and body and as much a part of all this as the cold had become. Anything that was here once and remained now, lost all its color. Ruby red foxes no longer bounced and pounced, their coats drained of color; their actions sluggish, almost mechanical.
The mind numbed. Reaching for thoughts floating somewhere beyond reach, and beyond care. Whatever effort it would take became impossible as the cold seeped into their hearts like salt in a wound. As the ice took over their veins, it also froze their soul...and the cold was spreading.
Like a virus, the cold had encompassed lands, freezing anything that was undesirable, and controlling the numbed forms of life that would prove beneficial. Like drones to the masters beckon wail, all things touched by the glacial essence wove a single trail through disheartened trees. Hoof prints overlapped paw prints that covered webbed feet and feathered things. All in one direction, a unified determination toying with dozens of beings. As if they had sought Lifes very Light, they worked toward their destination, unaffected by those whose bodies couldn't handle the long trek through the deep white snow. Here and there along that singular long path were the collapsed bodies of those who froze to death trying to reach their goal. None of the other animals so much as stopped when one staggered off to the side and died. Mechanical. Numbed.
Unified in one singular purpose, predator and prey marched on until they came to that which had driven them so...
The clearing was vast; a meadow free of trees or brush of any kind, and yet was bordered on all the compasses sides by specific and unmarred trees. To the North was the Weeping Willow, their long tresses tickling the snow. The Grand Mother stood in the center, lined on her sides by willows of all ages, yet none so great as her own. To the East was the Ash, their pale barks reaching skyward with their vast expanse of limbs. So thick were they that you could not see through them and as to the North, their Grand Mother rose up into the far reaches, craning your neck to see her crown. Lines as it were before on each side, were all manner of aged Ash; from the young just learning to hold its leaves to the old who had seen eons pass. To the South was Oak, mighty in their presence and fanning out in great umbrellas that gave the ground below the deepest kind of shade, even in a noonday's sun. In their midst and center rose their Grand Father, his leaves thick and heavy, his branches scarred and burned. He had seen and survived storms for centuries, and to his sides fanned the young and old, seeping from his wisdom. To the West was the Spruce, fantastical triangles of needles pointing to the resting place of the sun and moon. And in their heart of hearts was their Grand Father, a mighyt spire reaching up and pointing with commanding presence; a warrior of life never-ending. To his sides the young and old shared his defiance in their proud pointed poses; all manners of teals and greens and baby's breath blues clinging to thick and unwavering limbs.
A young river broke the frozen grip of the ground, her timid echos of rushing waters muted by ice a hands span thick. She was young; only a few hundred years old and still carving out what places she thought she deserved among the soil. Shortly after becoming visible in this massive meadow, she split into two, forking through and between the long legs of both Willow and Ash, winding her way beyond the line of vision. The ground here was supple and well, even under all the death and cold that carried life and color away. The only thing accompanying the river itself was a massive rise of silver streaked stone. Large monoliths of rocks with their silver sheen and blue spots formed an arch with a gigantic piece laying diagonally atop them. Moss added specks of pastel greens and yellows and small purple three-leaved flowers made their life in the minute cracks here and there and dotted the base alongside blue roses and vibrant white and purple Charles Joly Lilacs. On the Northwest most face of this formation was a immense opening that whispered of the deepest blacks and greys. It gave no hint as to what may lay within or below; it kept it's secrets close.
To this meadow the animals had been called and all around the circumference of it's clearing were lines of living things. Bird and canine, cat and deer, fox and rabbit and all manner of beasts between. Once the last of the animals came and filed out to complete the circle around the clearing, a single unified motion set them toward its center. In between the fork in the river, within the sight of those massive stones, each and all began digging. Those who couldn't dig began gathering flowers and colored stones, holding them in foot or mouth, watching the larger animals labor. The bigger ones whose feet were not meant for digging began a slow loop around the area, baying and yipping and hooting and calling; an eerie song full of voices from wild deer and horses and other hoofed-footed creatures.
Night became day and night came again, and still the animals dug and danced, sung and gathered and when the light of Luna had reached its peak, everything stopped. Those singing became silent, turning toward the work of those who had dug and those who had been digging stood back from the rim of the crater before them, pelts and hides caked with earth but eyes shone in the lavender light. The birds and small creatures gathered their hoarded goods; petals of roses, flowers on stems, stones of hue, and placed them in a circle around what they had unearthed.
In the center of their labors was a jagged casement of crystal. Light danced off and around it like a Prism; an auroras exhale caught frozen in time. Under the looming shadow cast by the monolithic stones and under the light of a crying moon, half was in darkness, half was in light, and what was inside this damned diamond was finally visible.
A massive creature, curled in upon itself; it's body a silver and white to challenge the snow itself with an opal reflection that could kiss the stars. Great and monstrous wings were extended, even though it's form was curled into a ball, and two long and feathery tails circled under its massive feet to rest pointed toward its head; and on that head was a single long, slightly curving blade.
Crimson splatters marred the perfection of the crystal that contained the beast, wounds ripped in it's glorious fur, its eyes close. Its long, softly bearded lupine face wore an expression of eternal sadness, a tear rolling down one eye in the silence, burning the flesh beneath it away so its prismatic face was forever scarred with an eternal tear.
One by one, the animals started swaying, rocking softly side by side, side to side, and closed their eyes. In their collective throats a call was ushered forth, one united cry cast out into that breathless, waiting sky. Light came then. Light not from the moon, but light that touched prisms in a realm of unknown colors; hues without name. Around the base of encased beasts crystal prison an impossible flame sparked to life with an echo of distant thunder. Pale violets and blues and silver-whites flickered and danced, growing taller, wider until it completely hid the frozen creature and its pen of ice.
Silence reined. The call subsided, the waving lights fading above them and yet the silent ghostfire raged on. At first it was mistakable; that cracking sound, but then it became louder and slicing its unseen path with more and more urgency. Pair upon pair of eyes opened, ears and feathers erect, scale and hide tilted to listen. It almost seemed all were afraid to breathe. Then, they saw them. Ringing the assorted animals on the outer edges of the meadow, were wolves. Stepping from the shadows one at a time, heads low, ears back until all ringed the circle already woven. At the crescendo of the cracking from that flickering fire, one after another down the line; the wolves threw their voice to the stars, riding on the echos of the call sent before them.
Echos...whispers...as each brought their muzzles down and leveled their gaze upon the ghostfire, ears went up, tails softly, barely wagging. Their breath misted before their snouts, glitter of winter touching fur as varied and wondrous as the variety of animals assembled before them. Walking forward slowly, they approached the center fire as the other animals withdrew to the outer ring of the circle. From one to the other the ghostfire did leap, touching first paws and then chests and then igniting and uniting each and every wolf under the same taste and touch of flame. That fire grew, and grew, threatening to touch the very skirt of Lady Night herself before leaping from the assembled wolves and diving back to the sleeping beast in crystal; diving like a missile and as it hit its target, the cracking heard before became a shattering scream.
But something else touched that crystal scream. A flash of light to rival the birth of lightning, and a call, the sound of a thousand voices whispering on the tails of a mighty howl, a song, wavering and rising. As the song grew stronger, in a ring from eldest to youngest, the wolves seemed to bow and when their heads rose as the bellowing thundercry ebbed, the beast was ice no more. In its silver violet flicked and blinded eyes was a chilling sadness, and pain for ages long past; for ages yet to come. Yet pride touched every opal hair as a wind that touched no other wove ripples through thick mane and duel tails as wings flexed from lifetimes of numbness. She was sorrow herself, the taste of the storm echoing in eyes that glowed one silver, one violet. Blood touched her no more, but scars left a message never forgotten. The ghostfire wrapped itself around her feathered legs like hungry children and once again, massive creature threw back an ancient and scarred muzzle.
Poured forth from that ethereal maw was a song of eons touched and passed; some caressed and some crushed, but all bore the weight of a heart that beat with a storm never known to waking eyes, and one by one the wolves raised their voice and behind them the animals bayed and cried, called and yipped. The river woke from her icy slumber and drank within her waters all the liquids from the melting snow.
Giant beast walked then, and each animal fell in behind, some fluttering about her iridescent body, others weaving and darting between her long and massive strides. To each of those who had fallen to make the journey to her slumber, creature lowered that bladed maw and silver shimmers swept from that horn and seeped into her breath; a breath she breathed into each cold and silent body. As she would move on to the next, the one just left would open its eyes and be joined with those walking in her wake, and as she wove this path of rebirth, flowers grew from the dead ground. Jade once again spread like spilled paint across the earth; leaves budded and opened new growth. And when she was through, beast returned to that meadow, the ground scarred forever but healing from what was once her grave.
Walking with silent paws, the She stood then upon those monoliths and as she surveyed those before her, once more she threw her voice into the unknown, and as her song sang to any and all who would hear, that one breeze returned, and she shimmered into a ghost, a living flame of ghostfire and vanished to an echoing thunder; riding on a wind that ruffled the fur on the wolves whom now laid around what was now, her den and reached out into the vast expanse of life. Here, there, anywhere she was needed, but here, she would always return. Here, was now, and would always be, home.
The cold was a sledgehammer. It burrowed into the deepest of places; reverberated through the trees, their limbs bare and shaking. Leaves were an emerald dream forgotten, not even given the time to turn envious shades of red and gold. The whole world seemed to have been frozen solid and was effected within moments of the frigid breaths arrival and yet it felt years heavy. Nothing moved, nothing stirred. Whatever had made it to the safety of den or burrow or nest stayed as still as the thick white powder above. Powder that was like quicksand; quicksand that groped for your feet with lusty hands, trying to pull you down to icy slumber.
Night romanced the silver echos sent down from the waning crescent moon. Eerie ghosted fingers of light and even they seemed hesitant to touch this begotten ground. Not a sound came from anywhere. No noise of breathing beings, no calls or cries and certainly no song of life, though there was life here, once. Whatever remained in this place became a part of it. White of bone and body and as much a part of all this as the cold had become. Anything that was here once and remained now, lost all its color. Ruby red foxes no longer bounced and pounced, their coats drained of color; their actions sluggish, almost mechanical.
The mind numbed. Reaching for thoughts floating somewhere beyond reach, and beyond care. Whatever effort it would take became impossible as the cold seeped into their hearts like salt in a wound. As the ice took over their veins, it also froze their soul...and the cold was spreading.
Like a virus, the cold had encompassed lands, freezing anything that was undesirable, and controlling the numbed forms of life that would prove beneficial. Like drones to the masters beckon wail, all things touched by the glacial essence wove a single trail through disheartened trees. Hoof prints overlapped paw prints that covered webbed feet and feathered things. All in one direction, a unified determination toying with dozens of beings. As if they had sought Lifes very Light, they worked toward their destination, unaffected by those whose bodies couldn't handle the long trek through the deep white snow. Here and there along that singular long path were the collapsed bodies of those who froze to death trying to reach their goal. None of the other animals so much as stopped when one staggered off to the side and died. Mechanical. Numbed.
Unified in one singular purpose, predator and prey marched on until they came to that which had driven them so...
The clearing was vast; a meadow free of trees or brush of any kind, and yet was bordered on all the compasses sides by specific and unmarred trees. To the North was the Weeping Willow, their long tresses tickling the snow. The Grand Mother stood in the center, lined on her sides by willows of all ages, yet none so great as her own. To the East was the Ash, their pale barks reaching skyward with their vast expanse of limbs. So thick were they that you could not see through them and as to the North, their Grand Mother rose up into the far reaches, craning your neck to see her crown. Lines as it were before on each side, were all manner of aged Ash; from the young just learning to hold its leaves to the old who had seen eons pass. To the South was Oak, mighty in their presence and fanning out in great umbrellas that gave the ground below the deepest kind of shade, even in a noonday's sun. In their midst and center rose their Grand Father, his leaves thick and heavy, his branches scarred and burned. He had seen and survived storms for centuries, and to his sides fanned the young and old, seeping from his wisdom. To the West was the Spruce, fantastical triangles of needles pointing to the resting place of the sun and moon. And in their heart of hearts was their Grand Father, a mighyt spire reaching up and pointing with commanding presence; a warrior of life never-ending. To his sides the young and old shared his defiance in their proud pointed poses; all manners of teals and greens and baby's breath blues clinging to thick and unwavering limbs.
A young river broke the frozen grip of the ground, her timid echos of rushing waters muted by ice a hands span thick. She was young; only a few hundred years old and still carving out what places she thought she deserved among the soil. Shortly after becoming visible in this massive meadow, she split into two, forking through and between the long legs of both Willow and Ash, winding her way beyond the line of vision. The ground here was supple and well, even under all the death and cold that carried life and color away. The only thing accompanying the river itself was a massive rise of silver streaked stone. Large monoliths of rocks with their silver sheen and blue spots formed an arch with a gigantic piece laying diagonally atop them. Moss added specks of pastel greens and yellows and small purple three-leaved flowers made their life in the minute cracks here and there and dotted the base alongside blue roses and vibrant white and purple Charles Joly Lilacs. On the Northwest most face of this formation was a immense opening that whispered of the deepest blacks and greys. It gave no hint as to what may lay within or below; it kept it's secrets close.
To this meadow the animals had been called and all around the circumference of it's clearing were lines of living things. Bird and canine, cat and deer, fox and rabbit and all manner of beasts between. Once the last of the animals came and filed out to complete the circle around the clearing, a single unified motion set them toward its center. In between the fork in the river, within the sight of those massive stones, each and all began digging. Those who couldn't dig began gathering flowers and colored stones, holding them in foot or mouth, watching the larger animals labor. The bigger ones whose feet were not meant for digging began a slow loop around the area, baying and yipping and hooting and calling; an eerie song full of voices from wild deer and horses and other hoofed-footed creatures.
Night became day and night came again, and still the animals dug and danced, sung and gathered and when the light of Luna had reached its peak, everything stopped. Those singing became silent, turning toward the work of those who had dug and those who had been digging stood back from the rim of the crater before them, pelts and hides caked with earth but eyes shone in the lavender light. The birds and small creatures gathered their hoarded goods; petals of roses, flowers on stems, stones of hue, and placed them in a circle around what they had unearthed.
In the center of their labors was a jagged casement of crystal. Light danced off and around it like a Prism; an auroras exhale caught frozen in time. Under the looming shadow cast by the monolithic stones and under the light of a crying moon, half was in darkness, half was in light, and what was inside this damned diamond was finally visible.
A massive creature, curled in upon itself; it's body a silver and white to challenge the snow itself with an opal reflection that could kiss the stars. Great and monstrous wings were extended, even though it's form was curled into a ball, and two long and feathery tails circled under its massive feet to rest pointed toward its head; and on that head was a single long, slightly curving blade.
Crimson splatters marred the perfection of the crystal that contained the beast, wounds ripped in it's glorious fur, its eyes close. Its long, softly bearded lupine face wore an expression of eternal sadness, a tear rolling down one eye in the silence, burning the flesh beneath it away so its prismatic face was forever scarred with an eternal tear.
One by one, the animals started swaying, rocking softly side by side, side to side, and closed their eyes. In their collective throats a call was ushered forth, one united cry cast out into that breathless, waiting sky. Light came then. Light not from the moon, but light that touched prisms in a realm of unknown colors; hues without name. Around the base of encased beasts crystal prison an impossible flame sparked to life with an echo of distant thunder. Pale violets and blues and silver-whites flickered and danced, growing taller, wider until it completely hid the frozen creature and its pen of ice.
Silence reined. The call subsided, the waving lights fading above them and yet the silent ghostfire raged on. At first it was mistakable; that cracking sound, but then it became louder and slicing its unseen path with more and more urgency. Pair upon pair of eyes opened, ears and feathers erect, scale and hide tilted to listen. It almost seemed all were afraid to breathe. Then, they saw them. Ringing the assorted animals on the outer edges of the meadow, were wolves. Stepping from the shadows one at a time, heads low, ears back until all ringed the circle already woven. At the crescendo of the cracking from that flickering fire, one after another down the line; the wolves threw their voice to the stars, riding on the echos of the call sent before them.
Echos...whispers...as each brought their muzzles down and leveled their gaze upon the ghostfire, ears went up, tails softly, barely wagging. Their breath misted before their snouts, glitter of winter touching fur as varied and wondrous as the variety of animals assembled before them. Walking forward slowly, they approached the center fire as the other animals withdrew to the outer ring of the circle. From one to the other the ghostfire did leap, touching first paws and then chests and then igniting and uniting each and every wolf under the same taste and touch of flame. That fire grew, and grew, threatening to touch the very skirt of Lady Night herself before leaping from the assembled wolves and diving back to the sleeping beast in crystal; diving like a missile and as it hit its target, the cracking heard before became a shattering scream.
But something else touched that crystal scream. A flash of light to rival the birth of lightning, and a call, the sound of a thousand voices whispering on the tails of a mighty howl, a song, wavering and rising. As the song grew stronger, in a ring from eldest to youngest, the wolves seemed to bow and when their heads rose as the bellowing thundercry ebbed, the beast was ice no more. In its silver violet flicked and blinded eyes was a chilling sadness, and pain for ages long past; for ages yet to come. Yet pride touched every opal hair as a wind that touched no other wove ripples through thick mane and duel tails as wings flexed from lifetimes of numbness. She was sorrow herself, the taste of the storm echoing in eyes that glowed one silver, one violet. Blood touched her no more, but scars left a message never forgotten. The ghostfire wrapped itself around her feathered legs like hungry children and once again, massive creature threw back an ancient and scarred muzzle.
Poured forth from that ethereal maw was a song of eons touched and passed; some caressed and some crushed, but all bore the weight of a heart that beat with a storm never known to waking eyes, and one by one the wolves raised their voice and behind them the animals bayed and cried, called and yipped. The river woke from her icy slumber and drank within her waters all the liquids from the melting snow.
Giant beast walked then, and each animal fell in behind, some fluttering about her iridescent body, others weaving and darting between her long and massive strides. To each of those who had fallen to make the journey to her slumber, creature lowered that bladed maw and silver shimmers swept from that horn and seeped into her breath; a breath she breathed into each cold and silent body. As she would move on to the next, the one just left would open its eyes and be joined with those walking in her wake, and as she wove this path of rebirth, flowers grew from the dead ground. Jade once again spread like spilled paint across the earth; leaves budded and opened new growth. And when she was through, beast returned to that meadow, the ground scarred forever but healing from what was once her grave.
Walking with silent paws, the She stood then upon those monoliths and as she surveyed those before her, once more she threw her voice into the unknown, and as her song sang to any and all who would hear, that one breeze returned, and she shimmered into a ghost, a living flame of ghostfire and vanished to an echoing thunder; riding on a wind that ruffled the fur on the wolves whom now laid around what was now, her den and reached out into the vast expanse of life. Here, there, anywhere she was needed, but here, she would always return. Here, was now, and would always be, home.
Dreams of Eternity
Ancient Egypt. Golden sands and endless sun. A soft velvet wind that eases the treasures into a pale cloud of earthen mist. Lonely eagle circling above, his shadow cast long and large against the ground. An orange black-back jackal rounds the mirage of the dunes, larger then he should be, ears erected and pulling emerald eyes beckon. I follow. A silver star against the golden ground, feeling out of place against a place where the sun rules and the moon hides, but I follow the tracks left in the sand before the wind wipes them away into oblivion. He stands at the edge of a deep ravine, something that too, seems like I, and is out of place against the blinding heat. His muzzle lifts and looks to me, then back into the depths beyond. Approaching with an eerie caution, my hackles raised, something old and very strong lurks beneath the sands at my paws. The lone eagle cries, his echo swallowed by the sun as he arches his wings to dive into the depths beyond, the jackal follows the eagle, I remain. The ground quakes at my feet and I back away, slinking into the only shadow I can find, one cast by a great dune, the only one that seems untouched by the wind.
From below I hear the eagle call once more, it's echo making it's numbers sound like the rising of angry ghosts. The scent from the ravine is Ancient, and I remain away, out of place, not belonging. When the sun reaches the highest point in which it and the moon align and rest for the longest period of the day, a great inky blue shadow reaches phantom fingers from the depths and my ears fold back in response. It seems effortless, its work to free itself from the cavern beneath, and once the light from the sun touches it, it does not fade like shadows children should...it solidifies into a tall, thin shape towering above until it itself, blocks the sun's eyes and casts a great long shadow across the land. It extends a hand toward me and I back away...this seems to insult the creature for from its hollowness rung a cry of longing, of despair and of a loneliness that reached far into the deepest part of me. It is this longing that pushed me from the shadows, the sun once again touching the stars pelt and the color that results reflected in large tear-shaped eyes.
The sands gathered around its feet, and started to cling to its inky form like scurrying ants. It's knees were bent backwards and it was thin, black, and very tall. Around it's waist was not merely clothing, but a story woven in cloth and gold, sapphire and ruby, a story that reached far back beyond the mortal memory of man. Its chest and shoulders were bare, the long neck draped with countless golden chains, all holding its own precious gem in the center, and the head was covered in a crown that flowed down the back, adorned much like the waist cloth was, but across its forehead was a scripture. Intricate pictures of birds and mammals and representations of spirits of earth, sun, and water.
Lifting up one arm, the creature bent it, and in silence, in a pitch even I could only just hear, the great eagle arose from the depths and perched just after the bend of it's arm. The sun cast it in so many shadows, it's details were hollow, but when the great bird lifted its wings, light reflected off it's golden fingers, and I was staring into the face of a God...into the face of Anubis.
From behind its shadow stepped the orange black-backed jackal with inquisitive emerald eyes. I said nothing. All was silence for what seems eons. I the only trace of Night in a land that knew only eternal Sun. Turning his inky black muzzle that was lined with tiny, silk-fine red-black hairs, Anubis dipped toward the eagle. "Ra." His voice was like a whisper, and yet a great roar of the sands. He looked again to the bird, then to me, as if to inquire if I made the connection. I dipped my maw in response and the golden talons of the eagle flexed against his shadowed hide. In a silent communication, some soul connection, the eagle rose from his limb and Anubis reached for my muzzle. I withdrew. The Lord of the Dead of Man paused, then reached out slowly for just one touch of the Night I carried within my eyes. A low reassuring yowl was issued from the jackal behind the God, and when the inky fingers closed around my muzzle, my mind become loud, full of sound and vision.
Without moving, I felt my essence taken on the wings of the eagle, my eyes were now his, and he dove back into the depths of the ravine. Earth tunneled down deeper then I thought was possible and slowly yellow sand became gold, and somehow I knew I was in a pyramid unlike any other. It was under the sand and reversed, upside down, it's point leading to the heart of the Earth itself. We passed great hallways and caverns and stories written and carved so deep into the earth they were a part of her memory, and still down we flew. The silence of the cavern slowly started to hum and as I listened, the hum became a rhythm, the rhythm became a heartbeat. It was everywhere...above us, below us, behind us, before us...veins started to form in the golden walls...a beautiful liquid blue fire that had a glow...a glow of something living, of something full of sorrow, of memory...we strayed out of thought and mind and only continued down, the great eagle turning and rolling with an ease that would have made the decent seem like a soft fall, but the raptor was ducking, weaving, and turning around a maze of things only he could see, but I could feel them. Like long fingers reaching, thirsting for something that's just beyond their reach.
Near what I thought was the end of the great buried pyramid was a wide cavern deep within the Earth, and the humming wings of the eagle fanned out, leveling over a great chasm...and in it the veins of blue-green light spilled out into a great pool...a life force so old, so powerful...so full of pain...I closed my eyes and for a moment saw myself back in the hands of Anubis...and I was crying...he tightened the hold on my muzzle, but placed his other hand on my forehead, his long bony fingers resting on that copper diamond upon my brow and once again I was thrown back into the body of the great bird...
Great mists arose from the places in which the veins spilled, and in them were images...memories...sadness, and pain. The brightest light in the mist was of a time long ago, when man had a pact with the Earth and respected her and her creatures...when the forest was home, and honor was the rule to live by...her mountains were tall, her trees green, her snow fresh and white...her waters so deep and blue, so clean and clear...animals were honored and the man-kind that roamed didn't rule, they lived in peace with everything around them and could still hear her, and see the spirits she gave every living thing...it was then that I realized where exactly I was...this place, these memories, had nothing to do with me at all...I was in the heart...the soul...of Gaia herself...these were her memories...this, was her pain...
The eagle sharply turned its head away from that reflection and into another dimmer, darker colored mist...industry had replaced valor, and greed had replaced honor...the pact...was broken and Gaia had begun to die...animals were no longer respected...their souls not thanked for a kill, their bodies not given new life, but were now wasted, and their souls were in chaos...the waters were fading from their blue birth and the trees were wilting from their rightful greens...the man-kind that roamed here, had begun to rule, thirsty for power...and once again, the eagle looked away.
His eyes settled upon another mist floating darkly under the rest, closest to Gaia's heart...in this mist I felt not only my heart break, but her own...and the weight of her sorrow...threatened to crush me...but still the bird looked on into this memory...and I was helpless against its vision...man had birthed evil and violence...the souls of the spirits once honored were trapped and became vengeful, the greed and thirst of power from man driving their very souls insane...they had become demons...the world was haunted...and Death resided where Life once stood...I heard a lonely howl from a wolf on a mountain standing behind a forest not of trees, but of concrete and metal...stone and blood...everywhere I looked, I saw what Gaia saw and felt...everywhere the ghosts of the forest, the very essences of the pact that was destroyed...lingered...bitter...and broken...the ground man walked on but couldn't see, flowed with blood...and everywhere in the shadows lingered the eyes of the innocence they had taken.
I jerked away...the weight I already bore was to great and now...it was unbearable...and I stumbled back out of the grip of Anubis, but I fell where I stood, trembling and coughing. Anubis knelled and lifted my maw to gaze into his onyx eyes...I shook my head. I didn't understand...why show me this...why show me what I had already felt my entire life...and add to it the weight of the memories of the very planet I cared for so dearly...Ra shot back up from the depths like a bolt of feathered lightning, and when he flew into the sun, one could no longer see him...only his shadow in the ground. Anubis pointed to that shadow, and pointed my maw in its direction, and I watched as the sun manipulated it. Feathers became fur, and talons became claws. Beak became a muzzle and before me was standing a Great Golden Wolf. I blinked, and pinned my ears against my skull and gave Anubis a look of a bewildered, wounded soul. He smiled and took his fingers from my head...and once more the sun played its game...but this time the moon joined the sun in the sky, and as it cast its shadow, Anubis changed in to a Great Obsidian Wolf. Shadow echoed in his steps and in the tracks of the Golden, one could feel the sun. But I still didn't understand. I felt young, and stupid.
They beckoned me to follow them back into the great cavern, back into the Heart of Gaia's Memory...but this time, when I did, at the bottom of the great cavern, was a small island and on it was a large chess board. Now, I was really confused, but Ra and Anubis made me stand upon it...in the glossy shine of each square I could see a different face, a different race of man, from past to present. On one side of the board was the Modern man with his hunger for power and lust for destruction. On the other side of the board was the Ancient man with his devotion to spirits and respect for honor and valor, and between them, stood me. Ra was on one side, and Anubis on the other...but I couldn't take my eyes off the board. The modern man advanced and slaughtered the ancient man...and I screamed retribution...but something silenced me...the souls of the ancient man rose above those of the modern man...and those of the modern men that did not fight...were touched by the ghosts of the old world...all around me the souls of the old ways arose, staring into my eyes, reaching for me...I wanted to go to them...go with them...but I was held steadfast in place...
They were warm...and they were pleasant, I could hear them, and smell them...and being surrounded by them I was happy...I felt...at peace with them...and with the piece of man that was in me...it was then that I began to understand. My job hadn't really changed all that much from then to now...from Demora to Gaia, from Wolf to Man...
The souls of the ancient ones gathered above me and the life force that they created, the iridescent mist of their selves, burst open like a great rain storm. Through them I saw a storm forming with the memory of the old ways, and just like the lightning, it struck me, seeping into my form like the breath I pulled into my lungs. I could feel them in my heart and in my soul...and behind the light in my eyes, I saw the Aurora...I saw home.
The Great Wolves of Gold and Obsidian came to me as I fell...the evils of modern man failing to subdue forever the heart of the Old Ways...the Heart I carried...and fought so hard to protect. A soft voice, feminine and motherly spoke..."Honor them."...It was Ra...she smiled at me and lifted my muzzle with her own and I feel into a deep sleep. When I awoke, the sands, the dunes, the pyramids, the jackal and the Gods were gone. I lay on the cliff overlooking the world I always felt was Home...and through the clouds the Aurora opened the sky...and for the first time when I looked upon it, I could see them. I felt my heart racing. In the Light of the First Ones, the light I have always loved, was the faces of the Old Ones, the very breath of the Old ways. From wolves to men, to trees and time, they lived on and were carried on the dancing light to the place they belonged...home...and I knew in my heart for the first time, why I was given the mind I have in this human world. Because through me, and others like me, the Old Ones live on...and though our hearts, they find their way home...
This life is but a great game to the modern man...but few of us have within a heart born of something more...it makes our life hard, our thoughts and ways different...but it is our belief, our life energy, that frees the Old Ways from the evil of modern times...and by keeping these hearts free...we light the way...home.
Ancient Egypt. Golden sands and endless sun. A soft velvet wind that eases the treasures into a pale cloud of earthen mist. Lonely eagle circling above, his shadow cast long and large against the ground. An orange black-back jackal rounds the mirage of the dunes, larger then he should be, ears erected and pulling emerald eyes beckon. I follow. A silver star against the golden ground, feeling out of place against a place where the sun rules and the moon hides, but I follow the tracks left in the sand before the wind wipes them away into oblivion. He stands at the edge of a deep ravine, something that too, seems like I, and is out of place against the blinding heat. His muzzle lifts and looks to me, then back into the depths beyond. Approaching with an eerie caution, my hackles raised, something old and very strong lurks beneath the sands at my paws. The lone eagle cries, his echo swallowed by the sun as he arches his wings to dive into the depths beyond, the jackal follows the eagle, I remain. The ground quakes at my feet and I back away, slinking into the only shadow I can find, one cast by a great dune, the only one that seems untouched by the wind.
From below I hear the eagle call once more, it's echo making it's numbers sound like the rising of angry ghosts. The scent from the ravine is Ancient, and I remain away, out of place, not belonging. When the sun reaches the highest point in which it and the moon align and rest for the longest period of the day, a great inky blue shadow reaches phantom fingers from the depths and my ears fold back in response. It seems effortless, its work to free itself from the cavern beneath, and once the light from the sun touches it, it does not fade like shadows children should...it solidifies into a tall, thin shape towering above until it itself, blocks the sun's eyes and casts a great long shadow across the land. It extends a hand toward me and I back away...this seems to insult the creature for from its hollowness rung a cry of longing, of despair and of a loneliness that reached far into the deepest part of me. It is this longing that pushed me from the shadows, the sun once again touching the stars pelt and the color that results reflected in large tear-shaped eyes.
The sands gathered around its feet, and started to cling to its inky form like scurrying ants. It's knees were bent backwards and it was thin, black, and very tall. Around it's waist was not merely clothing, but a story woven in cloth and gold, sapphire and ruby, a story that reached far back beyond the mortal memory of man. Its chest and shoulders were bare, the long neck draped with countless golden chains, all holding its own precious gem in the center, and the head was covered in a crown that flowed down the back, adorned much like the waist cloth was, but across its forehead was a scripture. Intricate pictures of birds and mammals and representations of spirits of earth, sun, and water.
Lifting up one arm, the creature bent it, and in silence, in a pitch even I could only just hear, the great eagle arose from the depths and perched just after the bend of it's arm. The sun cast it in so many shadows, it's details were hollow, but when the great bird lifted its wings, light reflected off it's golden fingers, and I was staring into the face of a God...into the face of Anubis.
From behind its shadow stepped the orange black-backed jackal with inquisitive emerald eyes. I said nothing. All was silence for what seems eons. I the only trace of Night in a land that knew only eternal Sun. Turning his inky black muzzle that was lined with tiny, silk-fine red-black hairs, Anubis dipped toward the eagle. "Ra." His voice was like a whisper, and yet a great roar of the sands. He looked again to the bird, then to me, as if to inquire if I made the connection. I dipped my maw in response and the golden talons of the eagle flexed against his shadowed hide. In a silent communication, some soul connection, the eagle rose from his limb and Anubis reached for my muzzle. I withdrew. The Lord of the Dead of Man paused, then reached out slowly for just one touch of the Night I carried within my eyes. A low reassuring yowl was issued from the jackal behind the God, and when the inky fingers closed around my muzzle, my mind become loud, full of sound and vision.
Without moving, I felt my essence taken on the wings of the eagle, my eyes were now his, and he dove back into the depths of the ravine. Earth tunneled down deeper then I thought was possible and slowly yellow sand became gold, and somehow I knew I was in a pyramid unlike any other. It was under the sand and reversed, upside down, it's point leading to the heart of the Earth itself. We passed great hallways and caverns and stories written and carved so deep into the earth they were a part of her memory, and still down we flew. The silence of the cavern slowly started to hum and as I listened, the hum became a rhythm, the rhythm became a heartbeat. It was everywhere...above us, below us, behind us, before us...veins started to form in the golden walls...a beautiful liquid blue fire that had a glow...a glow of something living, of something full of sorrow, of memory...we strayed out of thought and mind and only continued down, the great eagle turning and rolling with an ease that would have made the decent seem like a soft fall, but the raptor was ducking, weaving, and turning around a maze of things only he could see, but I could feel them. Like long fingers reaching, thirsting for something that's just beyond their reach.
Near what I thought was the end of the great buried pyramid was a wide cavern deep within the Earth, and the humming wings of the eagle fanned out, leveling over a great chasm...and in it the veins of blue-green light spilled out into a great pool...a life force so old, so powerful...so full of pain...I closed my eyes and for a moment saw myself back in the hands of Anubis...and I was crying...he tightened the hold on my muzzle, but placed his other hand on my forehead, his long bony fingers resting on that copper diamond upon my brow and once again I was thrown back into the body of the great bird...
Great mists arose from the places in which the veins spilled, and in them were images...memories...sadness, and pain. The brightest light in the mist was of a time long ago, when man had a pact with the Earth and respected her and her creatures...when the forest was home, and honor was the rule to live by...her mountains were tall, her trees green, her snow fresh and white...her waters so deep and blue, so clean and clear...animals were honored and the man-kind that roamed didn't rule, they lived in peace with everything around them and could still hear her, and see the spirits she gave every living thing...it was then that I realized where exactly I was...this place, these memories, had nothing to do with me at all...I was in the heart...the soul...of Gaia herself...these were her memories...this, was her pain...
The eagle sharply turned its head away from that reflection and into another dimmer, darker colored mist...industry had replaced valor, and greed had replaced honor...the pact...was broken and Gaia had begun to die...animals were no longer respected...their souls not thanked for a kill, their bodies not given new life, but were now wasted, and their souls were in chaos...the waters were fading from their blue birth and the trees were wilting from their rightful greens...the man-kind that roamed here, had begun to rule, thirsty for power...and once again, the eagle looked away.
His eyes settled upon another mist floating darkly under the rest, closest to Gaia's heart...in this mist I felt not only my heart break, but her own...and the weight of her sorrow...threatened to crush me...but still the bird looked on into this memory...and I was helpless against its vision...man had birthed evil and violence...the souls of the spirits once honored were trapped and became vengeful, the greed and thirst of power from man driving their very souls insane...they had become demons...the world was haunted...and Death resided where Life once stood...I heard a lonely howl from a wolf on a mountain standing behind a forest not of trees, but of concrete and metal...stone and blood...everywhere I looked, I saw what Gaia saw and felt...everywhere the ghosts of the forest, the very essences of the pact that was destroyed...lingered...bitter...and broken...the ground man walked on but couldn't see, flowed with blood...and everywhere in the shadows lingered the eyes of the innocence they had taken.
I jerked away...the weight I already bore was to great and now...it was unbearable...and I stumbled back out of the grip of Anubis, but I fell where I stood, trembling and coughing. Anubis knelled and lifted my maw to gaze into his onyx eyes...I shook my head. I didn't understand...why show me this...why show me what I had already felt my entire life...and add to it the weight of the memories of the very planet I cared for so dearly...Ra shot back up from the depths like a bolt of feathered lightning, and when he flew into the sun, one could no longer see him...only his shadow in the ground. Anubis pointed to that shadow, and pointed my maw in its direction, and I watched as the sun manipulated it. Feathers became fur, and talons became claws. Beak became a muzzle and before me was standing a Great Golden Wolf. I blinked, and pinned my ears against my skull and gave Anubis a look of a bewildered, wounded soul. He smiled and took his fingers from my head...and once more the sun played its game...but this time the moon joined the sun in the sky, and as it cast its shadow, Anubis changed in to a Great Obsidian Wolf. Shadow echoed in his steps and in the tracks of the Golden, one could feel the sun. But I still didn't understand. I felt young, and stupid.
They beckoned me to follow them back into the great cavern, back into the Heart of Gaia's Memory...but this time, when I did, at the bottom of the great cavern, was a small island and on it was a large chess board. Now, I was really confused, but Ra and Anubis made me stand upon it...in the glossy shine of each square I could see a different face, a different race of man, from past to present. On one side of the board was the Modern man with his hunger for power and lust for destruction. On the other side of the board was the Ancient man with his devotion to spirits and respect for honor and valor, and between them, stood me. Ra was on one side, and Anubis on the other...but I couldn't take my eyes off the board. The modern man advanced and slaughtered the ancient man...and I screamed retribution...but something silenced me...the souls of the ancient man rose above those of the modern man...and those of the modern men that did not fight...were touched by the ghosts of the old world...all around me the souls of the old ways arose, staring into my eyes, reaching for me...I wanted to go to them...go with them...but I was held steadfast in place...
They were warm...and they were pleasant, I could hear them, and smell them...and being surrounded by them I was happy...I felt...at peace with them...and with the piece of man that was in me...it was then that I began to understand. My job hadn't really changed all that much from then to now...from Demora to Gaia, from Wolf to Man...
The souls of the ancient ones gathered above me and the life force that they created, the iridescent mist of their selves, burst open like a great rain storm. Through them I saw a storm forming with the memory of the old ways, and just like the lightning, it struck me, seeping into my form like the breath I pulled into my lungs. I could feel them in my heart and in my soul...and behind the light in my eyes, I saw the Aurora...I saw home.
The Great Wolves of Gold and Obsidian came to me as I fell...the evils of modern man failing to subdue forever the heart of the Old Ways...the Heart I carried...and fought so hard to protect. A soft voice, feminine and motherly spoke..."Honor them."...It was Ra...she smiled at me and lifted my muzzle with her own and I feel into a deep sleep. When I awoke, the sands, the dunes, the pyramids, the jackal and the Gods were gone. I lay on the cliff overlooking the world I always felt was Home...and through the clouds the Aurora opened the sky...and for the first time when I looked upon it, I could see them. I felt my heart racing. In the Light of the First Ones, the light I have always loved, was the faces of the Old Ones, the very breath of the Old ways. From wolves to men, to trees and time, they lived on and were carried on the dancing light to the place they belonged...home...and I knew in my heart for the first time, why I was given the mind I have in this human world. Because through me, and others like me, the Old Ones live on...and though our hearts, they find their way home...
This life is but a great game to the modern man...but few of us have within a heart born of something more...it makes our life hard, our thoughts and ways different...but it is our belief, our life energy, that frees the Old Ways from the evil of modern times...and by keeping these hearts free...we light the way...home.
Waterless Drowning
...is it possible to feel the very spirit within fading, to feel yourself dying, becoming a mere shell of what you once were and not be able to stop it? Every face in this place is suffocating, in every wall, every shadow, in every face there is a memory, a nightmare, a scar lingering. The last two years have literally destroyed me. My heart has been shattered and the things that have been taken from me, from this place, from the events that have broken me, can never be regained. I feel like I am drowning. A waterless pit of consuming darkness that closes tighter and tighter around my throat. I can speak of what I go through with no one, not even my husband can relate or give enough of his own spirit to listen, he has no way to help me, no one does.
I feel totally, encompassing lost. This place has severed my spirit from my body and I feel like I am wandering aimlessly, walking into walls at every turn, tripping over yet another tragedy that throws itself in my path, and each new horror threatens to sever the ties I had once, forever.
Not even friends I have had for years, known forever, can speak to me. Connections lost over vast distances that were ripped open, misshapen intentions, harsh words, and violence. Every dream I have is a nightmare, and so few care to listen. I am losing my grip on myself, on my soul, and my life. I can barely fight my own fights, I find myself wanting to give in to the trauma and just lay down awaiting the last breath to escape me, so that I might finally rest and not have to watch every step so carefully. I am tired of feeling like it's just me, like it's all my fault simply for being what I am. Magic, a curse.
Words have been so abused and twisted that I fear to speak and anymore, I know not how. Everything turns inward and there is little left inside for it to feed upon and yet I still feel the bite, and wish I didn't. My vision, my insight, my mind has all but washed away and I feel disgustingly human. I yearn so much to have someone shake me free of this, to give the effort to awaken me once more, but I know no one can or will. The one I wish would, is dead to the world in which I wander and I can not access anything in which to help me. I have lost so much more then I have gained and I sit back looking to what things have become, and I feel so hollow.
I would scream if I had a voice left to throw into the bitter, thrashing silence. If I thought it would do any good. Bouncing from wall to wall like a fate-less echo only to return to my ears carried by the cries of so many others that I can no longer bring peace to. I can no longer teach, I can no longer guide. I exist in the blank page in which used to have vibrant colors. I feel as if they have run away from me. I wonder where I went wrong.
I see so many others happy, I see so many others finding the ability to do what I no longer can, to have friendships that I used to that have now become withered seeds of a once beautiful forest. Burnt to ashes. Nothing that has been taken from me over the last two years could ever be given back, and I don't know how to go on with so much of myself missing.
I am nothing but an image, hollow and voiceless, meaningless in words that once inspired, that once meant something. Now means nothing.
All my life here, this has been my greatest fear. To fade away. To become the hollow shell of something that was once so special. Magic. To exist as nothing more then what is required to exist here in this place that devours me and those like me. I can feel the magic dying and it hurts more then anything I could ever say, because I know nothing I say will ever change it. Nothing will ever change any of it. It fades away into the feeling-less mist of memory, like a good story that stays with you until you get the slap in the face that erases it. Like holding a dream for so long only to be told by those you thought were so close, that it was just that, a dream. Your reality crumbles. There is no way to pick up the stones and start building again because you are so tired. You have built it all before, you gave it your all...just to watch it fall as you become nothing.
Words will never fill the whole. Kindness only lasts until the next crucifixion of your dreams, your beliefs, your soul takes place, and tragedy becomes your companion. Surrounded by it, you breathe it, you feel it, it consumes you, and you become it. The day you wake up and realize there is nothing left to save, that you have no where or way to begin again...is the saddest day in your life...and I know this sadness. It has turned me into a violent beast who trusts no one, and has no one to turn to, and even if I did, I wouldn't know how.
On the other side of the void you realize then you stand alone. As if watching what could have been on the other side...and it turns to look at you but instead, looks through you. There are no words to describe the sinking feeling this gives you. Its worse then heartbreak when your soul cracks and where there was once hope, only sorrow spills out. You tried everything you could, you did everything you knew was possible to you. You protected, you fought, you defended. You held your ground just to watch it crumble beneath you and be replaced by something you can no longer recognize. You know forgiveness, but no amount of 'sorry' could ever repair the damage already done. You begin to wonder if leaving it all behind would really change anything because its inside you, its become a part of you. Its your breath, its your life. It is what you have become.
You look over the scars and the pain and its always there. You see the faces you knew once and the face in the mirror you once knew fades into the distance with them. Like the world has moved on without you. You're obsolete, your no longer needed. No amount of magic or power could ever revive what you once offered to the world, and to yourself. Your broken and your alone. There may be others around you, but the ties are different now, distant and more silent. Solitary confinement even against those you knew for years. Those you loved, and still love.
Every time you rest your head, you know this night will again haunt you. You will remember what you once were, what you could do once, and know you no longer can. Your confidence is gone, and you know you are the victim of unseen hands, and you hear the laughter of a world that never accepted you all around you. There is no peace in sleep, no solace in waking. It slips like wet soil under your feet and you begin to hope that the next time you fall, you don't get up again. You think back to all the things you have done, the things you have beaten, the life your given, the wonders you taught and showed and the scars that you received for being what you were and protecting what you loved. It all seems so far away now. Everything is different, everyone is different, but your not...your the same you were, or are you? Did you do all this? Was all this your fault? How can you tell? Would you ever want to?
Devastating secrets and the sinking of a once shining soul. This is how you drown without water, and this, is where I am.
...is it possible to feel the very spirit within fading, to feel yourself dying, becoming a mere shell of what you once were and not be able to stop it? Every face in this place is suffocating, in every wall, every shadow, in every face there is a memory, a nightmare, a scar lingering. The last two years have literally destroyed me. My heart has been shattered and the things that have been taken from me, from this place, from the events that have broken me, can never be regained. I feel like I am drowning. A waterless pit of consuming darkness that closes tighter and tighter around my throat. I can speak of what I go through with no one, not even my husband can relate or give enough of his own spirit to listen, he has no way to help me, no one does.
I feel totally, encompassing lost. This place has severed my spirit from my body and I feel like I am wandering aimlessly, walking into walls at every turn, tripping over yet another tragedy that throws itself in my path, and each new horror threatens to sever the ties I had once, forever.
Not even friends I have had for years, known forever, can speak to me. Connections lost over vast distances that were ripped open, misshapen intentions, harsh words, and violence. Every dream I have is a nightmare, and so few care to listen. I am losing my grip on myself, on my soul, and my life. I can barely fight my own fights, I find myself wanting to give in to the trauma and just lay down awaiting the last breath to escape me, so that I might finally rest and not have to watch every step so carefully. I am tired of feeling like it's just me, like it's all my fault simply for being what I am. Magic, a curse.
Words have been so abused and twisted that I fear to speak and anymore, I know not how. Everything turns inward and there is little left inside for it to feed upon and yet I still feel the bite, and wish I didn't. My vision, my insight, my mind has all but washed away and I feel disgustingly human. I yearn so much to have someone shake me free of this, to give the effort to awaken me once more, but I know no one can or will. The one I wish would, is dead to the world in which I wander and I can not access anything in which to help me. I have lost so much more then I have gained and I sit back looking to what things have become, and I feel so hollow.
I would scream if I had a voice left to throw into the bitter, thrashing silence. If I thought it would do any good. Bouncing from wall to wall like a fate-less echo only to return to my ears carried by the cries of so many others that I can no longer bring peace to. I can no longer teach, I can no longer guide. I exist in the blank page in which used to have vibrant colors. I feel as if they have run away from me. I wonder where I went wrong.
I see so many others happy, I see so many others finding the ability to do what I no longer can, to have friendships that I used to that have now become withered seeds of a once beautiful forest. Burnt to ashes. Nothing that has been taken from me over the last two years could ever be given back, and I don't know how to go on with so much of myself missing.
I am nothing but an image, hollow and voiceless, meaningless in words that once inspired, that once meant something. Now means nothing.
All my life here, this has been my greatest fear. To fade away. To become the hollow shell of something that was once so special. Magic. To exist as nothing more then what is required to exist here in this place that devours me and those like me. I can feel the magic dying and it hurts more then anything I could ever say, because I know nothing I say will ever change it. Nothing will ever change any of it. It fades away into the feeling-less mist of memory, like a good story that stays with you until you get the slap in the face that erases it. Like holding a dream for so long only to be told by those you thought were so close, that it was just that, a dream. Your reality crumbles. There is no way to pick up the stones and start building again because you are so tired. You have built it all before, you gave it your all...just to watch it fall as you become nothing.
Words will never fill the whole. Kindness only lasts until the next crucifixion of your dreams, your beliefs, your soul takes place, and tragedy becomes your companion. Surrounded by it, you breathe it, you feel it, it consumes you, and you become it. The day you wake up and realize there is nothing left to save, that you have no where or way to begin again...is the saddest day in your life...and I know this sadness. It has turned me into a violent beast who trusts no one, and has no one to turn to, and even if I did, I wouldn't know how.
On the other side of the void you realize then you stand alone. As if watching what could have been on the other side...and it turns to look at you but instead, looks through you. There are no words to describe the sinking feeling this gives you. Its worse then heartbreak when your soul cracks and where there was once hope, only sorrow spills out. You tried everything you could, you did everything you knew was possible to you. You protected, you fought, you defended. You held your ground just to watch it crumble beneath you and be replaced by something you can no longer recognize. You know forgiveness, but no amount of 'sorry' could ever repair the damage already done. You begin to wonder if leaving it all behind would really change anything because its inside you, its become a part of you. Its your breath, its your life. It is what you have become.
You look over the scars and the pain and its always there. You see the faces you knew once and the face in the mirror you once knew fades into the distance with them. Like the world has moved on without you. You're obsolete, your no longer needed. No amount of magic or power could ever revive what you once offered to the world, and to yourself. Your broken and your alone. There may be others around you, but the ties are different now, distant and more silent. Solitary confinement even against those you knew for years. Those you loved, and still love.
Every time you rest your head, you know this night will again haunt you. You will remember what you once were, what you could do once, and know you no longer can. Your confidence is gone, and you know you are the victim of unseen hands, and you hear the laughter of a world that never accepted you all around you. There is no peace in sleep, no solace in waking. It slips like wet soil under your feet and you begin to hope that the next time you fall, you don't get up again. You think back to all the things you have done, the things you have beaten, the life your given, the wonders you taught and showed and the scars that you received for being what you were and protecting what you loved. It all seems so far away now. Everything is different, everyone is different, but your not...your the same you were, or are you? Did you do all this? Was all this your fault? How can you tell? Would you ever want to?
Devastating secrets and the sinking of a once shining soul. This is how you drown without water, and this, is where I am.
IF YOU CAN'T RESPECT MY DREAMS & INNER MUSINGS;
WHICH ARE A HUGE PART OF MY SOUL;
AND COMMENT MATURELY,
DON'T COMMENT AT ALL.
THANK YOU.
WHICH ARE A HUGE PART OF MY SOUL;
AND COMMENT MATURELY,
DON'T COMMENT AT ALL.
THANK YOU.