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organised_chaos
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Country: United States
State: Indiana
Gender: Male
Interests: I indulge in almost all of the arts, esp. writing and music...
Expertise:
Occupation: Education/training
Industry: Education/Research
Message: message me
Member Since:
10/3/2003
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| If I Could Only Walk Away...
Is there only silence in your eyes
When our lips no longer breathe together
From moment to moment, it all denies
Anything but complete surrender
Is there anything left that's real
What lies within, hearts concealed
Final dreams, our lives, our blame
If I could only walk away... away...
I might...
I stay the path we'd both been on
Kept close to you, your hands, your grace
But now we've wandered far beyond
I don't recognise the time or place
Maybe nothing is left that's real
We lie within, hearts revealed
Fallen dreams, our lives, our shame
If I could only walk away... away...
I should...
Shine the last light down on me
There's only lies and circumstance
Cast from heaven, drifting free
Dying again in another's glance
There never was anything real
Only lies, no hearts to feel
Dying dreams, no lives, just pain
If I could only walk away... away...
I can't...
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| It's somewhat amazing at times what the internet can do. The people that it brings together... things like that.
It's also heart-rending.
A week and a half ago... finding out someone that you met online, then finally got the chance to meet in real life, even though they lived half a world away... finding out that they have died...
And died young... maybe not so young as some, but still young...
Sometimes being able to talk to people continents away is wonderful... and then, one day... gone.
I've been lucky thus far. I've managed to avoid losing anyone terribly close to me. Yet this affects me, makes me really take a step back and wonder... and think...
It's eerie how someone you don't know all that well... didn't know all that well... can affect you... to make you stop and assess your own life... to wonder...
RIP Anke. Du bliebst sich immer treu. Und wir werden uns immer an dich erinnern. | | |
| Vote, damn it.
Get out there and vote. | | |
| Time. We feel its slow ache in our breath, our lungs, our mouths, our teeth, every inch of our weary bodies.
It slowly tears away at skin, at bone, and even deeper still, settling inside every empty space within us. Gnawing at us from within, we succumb to it, let it embrace us, pull us under.
The universe exists in shades of black and grey. The pure white awaits us at the end of the tunnel, they say. Something to push away the universe, and allow transition.
I knew a girl who believed in other lives, that we passed through the white only to emerge into darkness and grey shadows, forever seeking a white light that never fades.
I am not sure that I ever believed in purity. Not sure that innocence even exists. It’s not original sin - it’s something else, something different that keeps us locked into the heavy night, light only by dim stars a thousand times too distant to reach.
It all seems so petty - we live, we die, with very little in-between. A fruitless quest for meaning that all ends in the same way. It’s a journey towards a deeper darkness, a stillness rather than revelation. The light in the tunnel is simply a reflection of what we’ve left behind, nothing to anticipate.
We become lost on our quest, enticed by dreams, never quite realising how they hold us to swiftly woven tapestries that show only the decay, not the life. The threads are always cut too short, Atropos too quick with her scissors, Lachesis never spooling out quite enough, Clotho spinning only a thin spiderweb, easily broken.
They say the Moirae are never cruel, only just. But what justice is there in a tapestry made of severed threads of mismatched lengths? What justice is there in a tapestry never to be appreciated or seen by mortal eyes? The mantle of blindness is never lifted, covers our eyes for eternity with blackness, hides from us what we have supposedly helped to weave.
We are told only to seek loaves of bread, jugs of wine, and that companion, the mysterious “thou” that evades us, tantalises us, beckons us from the shadows but never steps forth into the light. They are all creatures of the darkness that covers us, attempts to soothe us, even as it holds a certain light of truth at bay.
We’re told we can never understand. I envy those of faith - for their ignorance, for they accept what they cannot know or will not be told. Blindly. Even as those words come through faulty vessels, the cracked mouths that gush forth sweet truths, truths that poison the mind, truths that placate, truths that never quite add up, truths that are never at ease with the thousand other truths that spill from desperate tongues.
I want to look right at time, to see it as it passes all things, to find that destination in a trackless wilderness, a dark world never mapped, because we are too human to know, too tied to mortality, too fixed in our ways to break free, and somehow see the tapestry we have woven.
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