Wings...I give to you,
a vow...
a misguided promise,
Will you run away with me?
Life,
the time-moths...
are wearing down at my bones,
and each hour and day...
the chaos grows in both my ears,
A wall of hatred and confliction...
emotions that are too vulgar to be mine,
We are conflictions and paradoxes...
We are tired.
The stolen moon looks back down at us,
as we sleep....
and grow our night-wings.
I was once told a story...
that every child has a bird that nests in their heart,
and that whenever they fell asleep...
it would emerge to watch over them while they dreamt,
Only sometimes it leaves...
when we grow older,
or it is taken from us...
and I wonder,
at what point is it that our hearts' bird decides to leave us?
Maybe it got too crowded in there,
with all the other gloomy emotions that build up...
but,
I feel that sometimes...
it still visits us,
and allows us to remember...
again.
Have you ever...
visited the village by the wretched sea?
Broken bread with a merman?
Played Russian Roulette with the shadows and darkness?
Heard the drums of the earth?
Waited for Jack Frost?
Been so cold that you were soo warm?
Heard the Rain-wolf cry out?
I shall tell you another story...
that of the Rain-wolf.
He comes in the in-between moments,
in the flashes of spray made by large trucks, road and pouring rain...
the glimpses of otherly things,
and the terrible screaming...
when the door is left just ajar in a high-wind,
is his cry...
He pulls his way through sleep shadows,
and garden mist...
to stand beside us through all,
He is the guide for the wayward soul...
the lost child,
the frightened kid...
the moody delinquent,
He cares not for what you've done...
he is only there to guide you to where you are going.
as we sleep....
and grow our night-wings.
I was once told a story...
that every child has a bird that nests in their heart,
and that whenever they fell asleep...
it would emerge to watch over them while they dreamt,
Only sometimes it leaves...
when we grow older,
or it is taken from us...
and I wonder,
at what point is it that our hearts' bird decides to leave us?
Maybe it got too crowded in there,
with all the other gloomy emotions that build up...
but,
I feel that sometimes...
it still visits us,
and allows us to remember...
again.
Have you ever...
visited the village by the wretched sea?
Broken bread with a merman?
Played Russian Roulette with the shadows and darkness?
Heard the drums of the earth?
Waited for Jack Frost?
Been so cold that you were soo warm?
Heard the Rain-wolf cry out?
I shall tell you another story...
that of the Rain-wolf.
He comes in the in-between moments,
in the flashes of spray made by large trucks, road and pouring rain...
the glimpses of otherly things,
and the terrible screaming...
when the door is left just ajar in a high-wind,
is his cry...
He pulls his way through sleep shadows,
and garden mist...
to stand beside us through all,
He is the guide for the wayward soul...
the lost child,
the frightened kid...
the moody delinquent,
He cares not for what you've done...
he is only there to guide you to where you are going.
Missing and loving wide air and Christmas carols and the meditation of writing for hours on end. As is, work is so intense that I seem to just conk out whenever I have spare time. So these Blogs are in-between-breezy-ones, and I do apolagise for how inconsistent they are.
I still love you all, and I promise you that February is going to bring a lot of new material that I'll be posting up here, including....ba, ba, ba....my 21st birthday. :]
Much Love and ten-metre-wide-lollipops,
Miss CLScarlett xx
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