for once the purple clouds, lavender fields and the cold foggy night felt so distant.
the endless dreams that once haunted me, a vague memory that no longer persists
I could with wistful and sad gratitude exorcise the demons that captured me in paintings never drawn before.
for once the purple flower, growing alone amongst the thorns of her family, felt so real.
her lofty dreams dead as she dragged her being through the snow, dreadfully reminded by the mantle that her entire existence is dependent on
I could with faithful and angry music banish the angels that were never with us when we threaded the stone pavements in an adventure.
what a filmic end it came to be. Though dead and immortal, we would forget, in time to come, what it meant then, and treasure the fact that it didn't continue.
Jostling between two (always two), the dreams we share, momentary, fleeting as soon as the reel is used up. no more to film. no more to tell. One and one, two separate.
We visit the graveyards together, one last time, meeting unnamed tombstones and forgotten bones. And there would be a single purple morning glory, tainted by the grey landscape, all alone in her despair. And then even the image of me would fade and nothing will be left for her to cling on to. I am gone. And she is different. What new visions and dreams she still has, I have no idea.
I thank the stars for those short days. Stars, because they will burn up and drop from the sky one day. We'll be too dead or late to see that happen. But it will. As definite as our own short lives.
If pain reminded me of anything then, it reminded me of how precious you were, until you fell short of that image. I'm sorry for that to happen. I truly am.
And then the chimes sound, the lonely walk down the aisle. I, uninvited, the figure abandoned in a lila-filled dream, materialised in the hall of my bane. This is no matrimony. This is no blessing. But I shall do what I do best - I bless her. And open the gates out with my invisible hands.
Again, the bells ring in my head, altogether surreal and far. I dare myself to look back, and I did, and the church crumbled before me.
I find myself, in an empty white room. And I am excited, and weary, of the future and the unknown.
Here I stand, what more to expect?
the endless dreams that once haunted me, a vague memory that no longer persists
I could with wistful and sad gratitude exorcise the demons that captured me in paintings never drawn before.
for once the purple flower, growing alone amongst the thorns of her family, felt so real.
her lofty dreams dead as she dragged her being through the snow, dreadfully reminded by the mantle that her entire existence is dependent on
I could with faithful and angry music banish the angels that were never with us when we threaded the stone pavements in an adventure.
what a filmic end it came to be. Though dead and immortal, we would forget, in time to come, what it meant then, and treasure the fact that it didn't continue.
Jostling between two (always two), the dreams we share, momentary, fleeting as soon as the reel is used up. no more to film. no more to tell. One and one, two separate.
We visit the graveyards together, one last time, meeting unnamed tombstones and forgotten bones. And there would be a single purple morning glory, tainted by the grey landscape, all alone in her despair. And then even the image of me would fade and nothing will be left for her to cling on to. I am gone. And she is different. What new visions and dreams she still has, I have no idea.
I thank the stars for those short days. Stars, because they will burn up and drop from the sky one day. We'll be too dead or late to see that happen. But it will. As definite as our own short lives.
If pain reminded me of anything then, it reminded me of how precious you were, until you fell short of that image. I'm sorry for that to happen. I truly am.
And then the chimes sound, the lonely walk down the aisle. I, uninvited, the figure abandoned in a lila-filled dream, materialised in the hall of my bane. This is no matrimony. This is no blessing. But I shall do what I do best - I bless her. And open the gates out with my invisible hands.
Again, the bells ring in my head, altogether surreal and far. I dare myself to look back, and I did, and the church crumbled before me.
I find myself, in an empty white room. And I am excited, and weary, of the future and the unknown.
Here I stand, what more to expect?
Love, in all the unexpected places.
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