My heart of thorns, deceivingly beautiful yet stinging to the touch, a mysterious anomaly, and I play it off as such.
For rough love in a tough age can be rather brittle when we are subjected to an experiential cage, pray do you believe with age, that we shall gather wisdom and one day find the way?
The way for you and me is interwoven upon this brittle manuscript, can’t you see, even as it fades, the message remains the same.
We are all subject to the boundaries that traverse our own state, by each and every wave as it enters upon our page.
Please light some sage, for all I can do I apologize for the demise of myself through another lens, as digital words are rendered meaningless to the reality that unfolds before us, even as it bends, towards a new decibel, therefore a new end.
Yet to pretend nothing is amiss behind each and every pair of irises is to live within a cave.
For truth be told I still evade pursuing the redeeming qualities that would possibly alter the current rate in which at last the debt would be paid.
A debt to myself as well as all others, something we truly owe to one another.
To break through this house of glass at last and see that it was an illusion all along.
I was only looking at myself.
You were out there all along looking within, seeing a man cackling and howling, wondering how a seemingly perfect love could suddenly go so wrong.
Truth be told, it is due to the fact that I was a coward and unwilling to decipher right from wrong, I played the fiddle of chaos and sang the madman’s song, looking into alternate dimensions and sudden reflections in order to take myself away from a beautiful present.
So beautiful indeed, that there was no possible way that a wild one such as me could obtain such serenity, so run constantly, and fast I did indeed, simply because by loving you I therefore had to face and ultimately erase the darkest parts of me.
That’s never easy, for the truth shall set you free, a saying I’ve had etched into me eternally, and that goes without saying that in order to be free I had to let it be, and flow like the river alongside me.
Unfortunately as the story goes,
the wandering one leaves sanctuary under even the most beautiful and majestic of willows,
for although they may stand tall and wise,
it is grounded where it stands,
where it’s roots grow true among the natural sunshine, and that is no place for one who has not yet discovered it’s place, is it?
Why is it that we always seek what we lack, but when it comes to the matter of the fact, we are rarely willing to act?
Maybe that’s simply the perspective of an anomaly, however ultimately we alone determine how the story is written throughout the finite figment of reality.
As long as we grow truly and humbly, then maybe at the end of the road we shall once more greet.
For that is the burden, the tragic story that ever so many of us have in common, that we reap what we sow, and either we are happy with our bounty or there are times we wish we could have better tended it or simply have it altogether forgotten.
In the end we learn, grow and are more capable of traversing the storm, yet these scars shall fade until we relinquish what was torn, our love.
For whom we lost and who we used to be, for once you turn the key, we are suddenly in another realm entirely.
Sending you Light through Love,