Pacifying your Writer Demons: The Beast Whispers...as we became lost in the night...until we saw the dawnlight

I am waiting at the displaced railway station...

Running from the winds aged touch,

Beating my breath on a foot-race to the mountains...

and screaming from the top,

I'm leaving my shadow behind for a passer-by...

and sewing my tears into a shawl to cover me,

While the voices whisper into my left ear...

but never my right,

Sometimes the shades and hues become all there is...

and we travel down ancient paths,

I scry the sun, the stars and moon...

and whisper to you,

a tune a tune...

Your host has travelled back in time,

to a place more lost and kind...

and shall be indisposed for a length of time,

Some creatures find the wilds a part of their soul...

and mine grows forests that call and call,

It is only years...

that bring either ignorance of that haunted sound,

or a disregard of all else...

to follow it far and wide,

To cast off the boundaries of this life and world...

and to find a way,

to where the chaos quietens and...

the moths cease eating away at time and my bones,

To be spun anew,

to leave what once was...

forgotten...

It is the memories,

rather than the days themselves...

that brings me love,

How can one feel so much and yet so little...

We are masked by ice,

yet a labyrinth of splintering wood lays beneath...

I can't, can't, can't sleep,

I can't wake...

Because I fear what is ahead,

it only drowns out the need for sanity...

and makes a criminal of those who are good,

One-day we shall all be the evil...

even though we never were,

Appearance and reflection is in the eye of the beholder...

and I do so long to shatter even that,

Hold tight...

less the ground swallows you,

and the waves break your back...

Then again maybe that would be better,

to be lost, to be mad, to scream...

We can no longer tell the difference,

Yet one day...

it is light we will see,

and it will be familiar, and yet...

alien,

Like the slow grinding away of water against shell...

we shall drift,

through the wind currents...

and air-paths,

Beneath a new Heaven of stars...

Until we reach the lanterns,

that show us how...

a guiding whisper,

and a tram-line that goes so far...

that there is no way back,

only forward...

and where we go to,

is something close to Home.

Imbued.

Things trouble me lately...but, it is not so bad that I cannot live and love, and so I shall continue to do so...if I could speak plainly I would, but...alas, I am cursed like the cat, to speak in riddles. It is up to you, dear, dear reader to devise the meaning.
   I love all of you, and wanted to leave you with these few photos of curious gifts I recieved for Christmas.

   Much Love and wishes,

   Miss CLScarlett xx