Somewhere In-Betwen the Blue and Gold...

We loved mysteries so much that we became one...

I shall tell to you now, the story of the in-betwen,

the ones of the smokes and mirrors...

they that lie in a little smile,

or keep our small ways ticking on...

their stories are like ours,

just one tiptoe ahead...

and keep close to heart the light I pass on to you,

with each golden thread...

 

She is a centuries-past heartbroken lover of the sun,

given over to shadows and nighttime blues...

She is the Siren who calls to us from somewhere deep in our minds,

and far-North of the chaos, and blaring horns and sudden broken windows...

whisper,

through empty attics and trainstations hung with bluevelvetmoon hues...

She makes her home in the in-between,

Ahh now dear Sir, Madame...

step into the elevator,

Listen to the ageless yet somehow royal creaking of the walls...

see the faded lights,

and hear the voice from the middle of night and stars slither out to you...

from the hidden microphones,

 

 

'Going up...'

She does not say much else,

but then she's never had need to...

She dwells for a while in her blue elevator room,

staring into souls and weaving early morning thoughts from time to time...

swirling and breathing her smoke every so often,

for She is a woman of leisure and deepdark...

and a tip of the hat to you and a kiss on the hand,

for Madame Ellea.

 

 

The most beautiful of ones...

I shall introduce to you next,

a close and distant sister of cherished Madame Ellea...

Listen for the strike of each hour,

place your ear to the soft wood...

and hear the way she moves and dances and manipulates the cogs and gears,

beneath the woodwork...

she is spun up full of electric,

and occasionally chases the storm clouds about the sky...

rips like a bolt of silver deep into the earth,

 screams with laughter to the night and sunrise...

Upon each new hour she quietens,

and plays a haunting tune...

deep within each heart and timepiece,

across the world and through each room...

the ClockPrincess,

Miss AnnaBee...

shall surely write a new song for thee,

so listen and reflect on the beauty of her music...

as each clock hour passes,

and the time crawls onn...

 

We were drawn from Farr,

and we are only two of many...

delight yourselves in our quiet secrecy,

and watch the in-between too...

for if you love mysteries enough,

why not become one too?

 

 Just a small wee Blog for you today, feeling very drawn and distant...but, there is mystery still, and hope. Always hope. Maybe it's true...maybe we eventually become what we always wanted to be, only we discover that it is nothing like we expected and that we don't want it. But...no regrets (and perhaps I regret deciding to have no regrets)...but I don't have them. I can't live my life with guilt or that, ahead, ahead...eyes ahead to the pale distant future.

   We move forward, and forward, through the deep dark and pain, because we know that one day it will pass...and if not, if even that's a lie, let us be consumed, and if it is to pass...well, then all that's left is to wait out the storm.


   Much Heart and Such,
   Miss CLScarlett xx