The Sinister Meeting Room offers a call...
to you dear Sir and Madame,
to come to a merry funeral masquerade...
when the hour strikes two,
'A funeral,' you whisper '...but a funeral to who?'
A funeral to thy heart and wings...
we'll gladly take them back now,
you've had them for quite long enough you see...
and there is a borrowing deadline,
and yet...
we sense your dismay,
at this sudden startling request...
well Sir Madmadam we can only protest,
after all it was in the contract you signed...
ah but you do not recall such a treacherous thing?
Well let us explain more clearly...
you signed between the lines with blood and unspoken words,
convictions you sentanced to your heart and mind...
we are merely doing the deed you requested of us,
a simple life dear...
without the burden of a heart,
or wings...
Yet if you are determined as you seem to be,
to claim back what you once thought you did not need...
then please approach the three ladies of our world,
to ask of them what you should do...
They are the wind and the rocks,
the snow when it thickens...
the curving figures that you always catch just at the corners of your eyes,
they spin dust through centuries...
leaving stories in its' grey,
and they make the singing of the brook....
and call with the whale,
they stare at you now...
and demand your ear as price,
heed their fire, salt and earth words...
as they sing and sigh,
'If you truly wish to claim...
that which you have lost,
then a journey perhaps...
a trek most certainly,
a wandering indefinitely...
must be your path,
see here the first step we hide...
it is a straight way you see,
that spins and weaves across the universe...
and over many a sea,
step forward now...
strange traveler of ours,
and go forth with our blessing...
to reclaim your heart and wings.'
'You must cast out all fear...
to step forward into the deep,
and walk straight ahead...
up to your knees,
travel forth and travel true...
until the hour of undead.'
So forward you do step...
without the protection of heart or soul,
and onto a plain that stretches...
far beyond what time demands and what you know,
the sea plain they have sometimes called it...
where the horizon flips,
and the winds wail...
and the water fizzles with life,
we watch ourselves tremble in our many reflections...
as we walk beneath burning sun and crystal moons,
to the deep to the deep...
everything whispers,
feel the waves and the fish and the megalodons press closer...
hear them whisper you on,
faster dear...
faster dear,
move your feet faster...
race the currants,
race the tide...
do not stand still,
lest our teeth and cruel natures birth in us...
the desire to chew and nibble and eat our way to your very bones,
run from us...
run from our laughter,
to stand in the sea plain too long...
is to have the wasting disease cursed upon thee,
so run and run and run...
until you see,
the Hovering Path...
above the sea.
Take it now...
hesitate not,
and hold thy head high now as thy walk....
on and forward,
you will find this path a dream...
a peace of pie in the sky,
yet ware oh traveler...
'ware!
For walking the Path of Hover...
is misleading as the time,
you shall wander its' length for what could seem an eternity or mere seconds...
the light shall stand still,
and the waters dearly calm...
but the more you walk,
the more you begin to discover...
that the reasons for your steps,
are fading with the hours...
you only desire to walk,
upon its' smooth and moss-covered stones...
hoping in secret to never arrive,
at wherever it is you were meant to go...
yet dear that is not our way,
or yours...
feel nudges and peculiar thoughts,
wind about you now...
forcing you on faster,
and then fearfully tumbling down...
the despair grips as the path is torn from you,
that fabled way of Hover...
that if left be would have trapped you,
in an eternity of none...
you fall hard and you fall long,
until you tumble again onto a way...
and this is the new road you must take,
but please be wary...
of its' charmed facade,
It seems as though it was built by secrets...
and orchastrated by hidden hands,
myth-wraught lights shall guide you up...
and while charming,
please do not leave the path...
for along your way you shall find many a curiosity,
dolls that smile with faded grins...
and beckon you away from the lights,
strange doors made of bone and wire...
seem to promise a fabulous discovery,
and the most tempting of smells wind from dark corners...
drawing you and begging you away from the path,
yet this time you do stop...
and it is not our hands that do so,
you feel the lanterns like gentle hands...
calling you back to the road,
you turn your back on the marvels and temptations...
on the mysteries and bittersweet calls,
feeling a longing yet stepping forward instead...
and as the night passes swiftly around you,
you approach your greatest challenge yet...
You glimpse upon a stone,
at the very end of this path...
what appears to be a reflection of you,
bound and hanging within the air...
you glimpse no faded mirror,
hosting your likeness in place...
and also upon the rock you see,
a brilliant dagger beside a rose...
it is then you understand,
as you look upon your likeness...
and see the trailing coils of dark,
that chain it to its' place...
you know what you must do,
and dear we believe that you forgot...
yes the ultimate price to regain what you have lost,
is to stab your likeness clear through the heart...
it is written in the agreement you signed with us,
so take up your blade and being careful to laugh...
shatter your reflection with the knife,
and step forward then...
feel the sudden breaking of chains,
feel the sudden lightness in you...
oh and how the dark screams,
for losing you...
step forward oh unburdened one,
and walk about the turn in the path...
gaze upon the new world you have,
and see as we see...
Yet you cry out to us,
'where is my prize...
where is that that I seek?'
You silly child...
you ridiculous beloved creature,
when you destroyed the dark your heart filled back in...
feel it there beating,
between your ribs...
and notice there now,
how your body is born up...
into the new sun and light,
upon wings you glimpse...
of silver and brilliant fire,
your inheritence and gift from us...
the Sinister Meeting Room offers you a bow,
and a tip of the hat to you dear friend...
who conquered the dark,
and regained their soul...
a merry old laugh to you,
for playing our game well.
Hello dear ones....
Okay, so please don't go around with knives stabbing your reflection or yourself for that matter hehe. It's more, that often to be free we have to stab and destroy the dark, because the dark can bind itself so close to us that eventually we feel we want it...and need it and even love it. Yet the only way to be free is to kill it, and realize that we have hidden in us what was lost.
Still we wander and look and search and cannot see what is right in front of us. Still I shall walk until I can see the light for light and not a warped trick.
Hoping you are all living and alive,
Much Love,
Miss CLScarlett xx
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