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Addict
Join Date: Oct 2004
Location: Beyond the Grey Sky
Posts: 151
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Wind and Love
I've just been imagining circumstance lately, so here it is...
A Nearly Perfect Circle
Why is the wind so common, and yet now, in this field of green, fleeting? Like love itself it flows without regard for human interference. Inhaled in happiness, exhaled in anger, gone in a moment with a soul of its own, though now devoid of any sense of attachment. The wind itself is flowing, through the grass and our lives, a soothing provider of life, and without it, death is nary a moment away. That is why I came here, when the sun had gone and the wind was stale. To look for her on the horizon, as before, when the wind still moved this feeble grass. To find what I had lost to the wind, love itself, sifting away where I could not reach. Wind and affection mingled like lovers, caught in an eternal spiral, and I was left behind, veiled and shrouded, implanted where I stood.
But a field of grass, stretching and subtle, is only the alpha and the omega. Between, there are no fields of green, no gentle winds, no serenity. It is not simple to feed affection. Love must thrive; its survival is never guaranteed. I can remember a night when we walked alone in a park, a sliver of the moon glowing. Most of what lay around us escapes me now; I can remember only your eyes, and your words, as if all else fell away around them. It was the night you taught me love, and we dropped like raindrops from the sky into that field, and began our journey away from it. Little did we know that at the end, we would find ourselves in that field again, wind on our faces, but love atrophying just before the end.
I guess it had to happen. In the fields, there was rain, darkness and thunder, booming words from distant souls departed from our own, yet spewing from our mouths in anger. The wind would be soft , and then roaring, as our passions saw fit, our affections molded around the rest of the world. Through the rain and the thunder, the grass still grew, the wind still blew, but something was beginning to change.
Some consider silence as a golden bliss. I have learned it is a punishment. It is a time given in which realizations come, for truth or fallacy, and you learn new things about yourself and those around you. That night we tread the park again, and I could feel it creeping into me. A silence, a weary nature was pulling me down from this wondrous vista, showing me all the mistakes in you. Like I child I used them as weapons when thunder arrived, and despite the outcome, both of us were struck down. Now I realize why you took me through the park that night. To atrophy the love that we had both let die.
And in the field, the wind had stopped blowing. More than where the wind had gone, the question begged to be asked, “Why?” Its lack was more than noticeable, like a desperation-inducing lack, where anxiousness appears and denial follows. I stood alone in the field, that night, after the park, and you were taken by the horizon. No more wind would fill my lungs, and I remained dying. The sky overhead became veiled with darkness, and the grass began to wither. Without the ever-changing, effervescent wind, nothing would survive. Not even me.
So as I began to wither, and the lack of wind began to atrophy everything around me, I stood up and looked toward the horizon. I hoped you were there, perhaps I even imagined you there once or twice. My eyes searched, and as they did, I felt a soft wind on my face. The grass grew green in a circle around me, and a nearly perfect circle of light parted the clouds overhead. I peered into the horizon with these weapons, though I remained that feeble child inside, and waited.
I am naught more than a man. Even with light, wind, and grass beneath, my heart could not go on. My lungs would remain filled and my eyes open, but it would not bring your shadow back from the horizon. That which was already dead would not return, nor would my manifestations become real. I felt the grass, and it turned to ash in my hands. I breathed the wind, and coughed smoke. I stared into the light, and it was veiled, then darkness. I fell to my knees, decrepit. The field had died, and I, its victim. You were swept away by a self-willed wind, and I was left to breathe the ashes. Our field would never be what it once was. But the moment I left it, the first step away, I looked back, and it was more alive than anything I have ever known.
~ANPC~
__________________
~Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion~Tool
~Don't ever let life pass you by~Incubus
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