Whats in here...
I am one who charishes poetry, not only for reading but also for writing in here you will find songs/poems that i wrote, and some that i enjoy. Just another way to see the beast within.
Volcanic Journey
As the wind blows the volcanic ashes off my body, and away from where my soul rests hybrid with life and death, revealing the true appearance of my heart, I feel the warm light once more heat my cold heart and numb body. I have lived in this cold, dark emptiness for a length of time, which has rendered me unfamiliar with such feelings as happiness and appreciation. As the day ends I find the wind blowing once more in the opposite direction, blowing the ashes once more onto my body, making me once more a prisoner of my own damnation.
The body can be the most deceiving thing that we have. This obviously comes in more than one meaning. There is an infinity of examples of such a statement. With the many luxuries we find ourselves indulging in our modern world, we also find even more ways that pestilence has upgraded itself to remain a constant threat to our existence. As humans, a race, which is known to cling to life until all, is lost; such threats make us tremble with fear.
The dark putrid ashes cover me once more, but this time I feel what I have never felt. As my body cools to its former state I actually find myself to be scared and frantic, rather than experiencing the usual depressingly content and tranquil sensations I have come to know as life. As the ashes cover the remaining parts of my body I remember the warm light, and I mourn for it in vein, understanding that the ashes will only blow off my body once, and that they will remain on me for the rest of eternity. With my dark, stone, heart scarred by the cracks of light, which reached my heart within the short time I was free from the forces of isolation. I realize I had my chance to struggle in this world, but once the ashes covered my body, I await my eternity of bondage to the dark confines. For I chose not to struggle, I chose to proceed quietly into the dark void without a fight.
The voice is often used as the dark cape of the soul. Only reviling the illusion the illusionist wishes the observer to see. With the voice and the body combined the illusionist can use their dark cape to protect themselves from which they know none of. Making them feel secure and superior to those they know nothing of. This gives birth to nothing but a pitfall for the illusionist and the observer. For this allows the observer to create it?s own illusion by believing the dark cape to be reality. Used by the illusionist as a refuge from what the illusionist knows not of how to control or what to expect, the dark cape is a tool which will cause the undoing of the user.
Shattered by my foolish decision to return to the dark void. I find no trace of optimism for my future. For I foolishly sold my future for an eternity of pain and suffering with the dark side. Here I can pull all the black wool blankets in existence over my dying carcass as I will, but without the light, which fed me a ray of hope, I will still be as frostbitten as the lonely planet Pluto. I become enraged in uproar with the decision I at a time saw as a path I would be able to live with. I cannot shed tears, for the void has drained my eyes of it?s fluid, but this dark destination cannot prevent my heart from pumping blood of hope, and weeping beats of misery.
With the voice and body radiating a message, the mind of the body becomes weak and susceptible to the barrage of quibbling and lies of the illusion it has created to protect its own mind and body. Not only becoming an illusionist to whom they not know, but also to whom they find admiration. The targets of admiration will then receive either a basic fabric of the illusionist?s true thoughts and emotions, or a fake fabrication of which the illusionist really is. Leaving the admired misled and confused, and the illusionist trapped within the walls of their own lies, which they are already living.
In upright refusal to remain in this dark dimension of hell I do what I have never attempted. I raise my hand out of the cold ashes, next sitting up, pulling my head and body out of the ashes. I breath another breath of the youthful air I remember when last on this plain, but something feels different as I exhale. I open my eyes to see myself upon another world of what I had remembered. For the light that my soul demands to be fed, has been covered by clouds up in the sky. I question weather the heartwarming light will ever strike upon my body again. I look into the horizon too see others being blessed by this light which they live with without appreciation. I begin a journey to a land I know none of, in hope that upon the journey that I will have this light sparkle upon me once more.
As I pull your rotten corpse closer to my heart I morne once more for the love i never had but always dreamed of You are now dead, but i am too selfish to envy you for where you have gone You body is split open, and the magots feed on their next meal. You hands are still warm, and your heart cold, but it always was.