A Place South of Wayward...

 

Those wayward road-side angels...

were the first to cross my night,

I'd never seen their faces before...

yet their smiles and eyes claimed otherwise,

we spun our way through the empty streets...

closer than five friends ever could,

sharing smokes in corners...

and dancing in teapot bars,

we swung silver paths through the rain...

and listened to the roar of the sea,

made our way a bit around eternity...

and imagined kisses beneath the eaves,

we were forever and an ashen light...

and by morning they were gone,

though a piece of their unstable wisdom had latched...

deep within my soul.

I ride along a path these days...

imprinted on my heart,

through an ocean-bound land of greys and mist...

I engage my mind to,

houses worn down by wind and waves...

and shadows that park in the corners,

in the rain...

moisture has melted into our heartbeats and minds,

while the thud of badly constructed boardwalks...

is all I hear,

through windings and inlets I've woven and found...

a mind freed from its' entangled web,

torn away by the gale...

we ride until we can't feel,

and until we can't stop and can't stop...

then finally perhaps,

we can.

Stop.

Stop walking, stop singing, stop dancing...

they've told us before,

yet we can't...

we won't,

we don't know how...

 

we drown ourselves so that we can hear the truth,

and burn ourselves so that we can wake up...

because we're all asleep,

awake...

Birds I've seen that no one can hear,

and sounds lace the world where the silence grows scared...

we are creatures of design,

and chaos...

and no it's not that I need rescuing from others,

it's that I need rescuing from myself...

But come onnnn Scar,

do you really want to stop?

Bargains struck and hated love saught out again...

for a piece of madness to ease the sanity,

which would we rather?

 

I whispered to my bicycle...

'one day I'm going to stop,

one day -

if you were able to ride forever -

perhaps I could...

and then I'd just keep moving,

until the streets became paler...

and the light became more,

and it was quiet and still...

I'd see a figure,

or glimpse the walls of Dwarka...

 

Then we will stop,

and I will let you rest...

amongst the moss and roots and sand,

under the coconut trees...

and it will be time no more.

 

Wings torn from pages as we gaze at a new sky...

we yield to the stars,

while forgetting our darkness...

so as to continue.

 

 

 

  My mind and dreams have been racing to strange and dark places lately...another labyrinth to face and another year already flying byy. I can't believe it's March. :]

 

 

   All My Love,

   Miss CLScarlett xx