|
It starts with a little steam and bubbles. Then it begins to boil, with and open chance it was stirred, and the ingrediants added. The flame starts to flicker and becomes a full bloom, raging fire, and the stand off begins. I was in the middle of this all. I saw and knew, but couldn't prevent. Then one raised his hand, looked at his opponent, and called his followers. The other did the same, and with a scream he charged. The powers clash as one tries to fall the other, to claim victor. With every swing, slash, kick and punch, the temperature rises, and the bodies fall. The smell of sweat and blood are toxic. The site of bloodes bodies standing with determination, while the manipulated ones on the ground breathing their last breath are torture. Every turn is a raging scream, the pain of agony, and the sound of death. I have to decide whom to help, what to take on, but every which way I turn is flesh. The irony of this all started with one misunderstanding, as the phantom takes it's chance and stirs it to a boiling point. I stood through this all, and wished I was dead. Why are we so blind and deaf, hurting the ones we once trusted. My heart swelled with pain and anger. My eyes were ablaze! Chilled to the bone! Goosebumps on my flesh! But no matter, my legs were locked. As I voice my way with a scream that tore from my chest, again and again. "Oh, how can this be happening? Stop! Stop! We're nothing but fools to fall for such tricks!" |
It was no use. My plea died against the sound of screams and clashing metal against flesh. Many fell, fewer were left standing. One by one they fell upon the ground, leaving only a few to recollect this tale. Silence was all to be heard. They looked around to claim victory, but only to feel defeat. Lying upon the ground were not enemies, but friends and family. What such fools we are, they thought. With a cry of regret, they collapsed and sobbed. The heat simmers down. As I turn my back and walk away with pain so bad I was numb, I was shedding dry tears. Nightmares consume the thought day and night. Fighting the dreams that have come, only awakening with cold sweat and bitter rememberence. I lie awake, fighting the allurement of sleep, to prepare the battle for tomorrow's light. Once again the scene appears as I thought: Upon the mountain sky, above the mountain peaks, who would hear my sorrowful cry? Steady as the waters that run deep, with currents so strong, they can engrave the steeps. How the memories leave its marks, cutting the soul with jagged ridges, with every beat of the heart. Even now the sight I behold is still is dark as night. | |
|
If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowence for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired of waiting, or being lied about, don't deal in lies. Or being haed, don't give way to hating, and yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise. If you can dream and not make your master, If you can think and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken, teisted by knaves to make a trap for fools. Or watch the things you gave your life to broken, and stoop and build 'em up with worn out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch and toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breath a word about yur loss. If you can force yur heart and nerve and soul, to serve your turn, long after they're gone, And so hold on when there in nothing in you, except the will, which says to them, "Hold on". If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, or walk with kings, nor lose the common touch. If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none to much. If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance run. Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, and what is more, you'll be a man, my son! |
or feel the other's warmth, or feel heartbeat, within heartbeat, to get so close; you're one. This is impossible when one crosses his arms over his chest. How can he allow others in his arms? It's no use to see, the beauty and the light. If one closes his eyes, seeing darkness after darkness. He can't see the smile given, or the reaching hand, nor the silent plea. He can't know love as given, if he doesn't open up. Unlock what he has closed. How can one know, if he can't discover, what was given to him. He can't recieve if he clenches his fists. He can't see if he shuts his eyes. He can't embrace if he crosses his arms. He can't discover if he's made his mind. How can one know, see, feel, learn, if one has locked his soul and mind with such force. Open the door and recieve what is given, bitterness, hatred, sorrow, happiness, sweetness. Better to feel pain than nothing but loneliness.
| What is love, a thing so weird, a thing that blinds us. Love draws us to its web. giving us sweetness, giving us bitterness. Love has no shape or form. But has the power to seduce. What is love, I ask once again, that makes us sacrifice? Does love hold the power of desire? To hold us in its arms, never going to let us go. Does love make the fire, that burns in us? Please, I ask, what is love? Is it what makes us care? Is it what makes our heart ache, when we have been betrayed? Does love make us bloom, or make us wither? Does love give the tears in our eyes, leaving teardrops in our hearts, as it rolls down our cheeks? What is love, I have wondered. Does it blind you with evey step? Does it take you between the dream world and reality, or does it bind you between? Love is what gives us warmth, or is it what gives us sorrow? Will love leave a wound so strong, that we won't be able to mend? Does love make us blue, when we have no one to hold, or when no one will hold us? Love is a creation made by nature, or is it by us? Love, how can we not understand, a thing we feel so often? So I ask man or nature, What is Love? |
