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The gnarled, twisted tree, Deformed by the rough hand of the wind, Reaches in agony to the grey sky above. The clouds float by, Blind and deaf to the tree's cries. Merciless, the west wind marches on, It continues its assult upon the tree. A rustle of branches, like a content sigh, Sounds as the tree falls to the earth, To rest within the earth's gentle hands forever. A cold monument to the might of men, Rises high above the earth. Hovering like a giant spider, Preying on the world. Hard, lifeless buildings with neon beams, Filled with nameless faces. Scurrying like rats in a maze, Of streets of stone and metal. Streetlights shine as beacons of life, Making light in a realm of shadows. People all around me, Yet I feel so alone. A night sky of violet looks down, Listening to the constant hum of the city. A buzz of elecrticity, of power and money, In a whirl of colour. The noise deafens the mind, It washes thoughts away. It is like the noise is a futile attempt, To convince themselves that they are alive. The city, corrupt yet happy, Dead but living on, In the heart and mind of Mankind. I'm almost drowning in my sea of tears, The ocean hidden within. I scream out my pain like the wild cat; Screaming at the sun. Words flying like thunderbolt clouds, Shocking myself into awareness. The moment is gone. A bubble pricked mid-flight by a child's finger, Floating in the sky. A rainbow globe of man-made happiness. Dream and Reality I close my eyes, And open my mind to the thoughts of others who see me as I am. Consciousness fades under blankets of dreams and memories. I am locked in a cage of thorns. A barrier between me and the world. Thinking hurts. Feeling hurts. Touching those thorns hurts. I hurt. If I pressed hard enough, the cage would break. But I am not willing to embrace the peace of normality, nor cause further pain to myself. Others try to kick down my walls; I have seen them try. There is nothing that would make me happier, to speak the wisdom I've learned in solitude. But speaking is hard. My tongue cannot express that fatal knowledge one gains when imprisoned by solitude. I have been silent for so long that it takes a lot of thought in order to speak. Speaking is hard, so I shall remain silent, except for a rare break of conversation to break the monotonous silence of my prison made somewhat of my own choice. A voice speaks my name. Startled, I awake. Unsurprised to find myself still locked within a thorny cage of silence. It's not my fault, that I sit alone at lunch. I didn't sign a slip of paper, indicating my preferred status. It's not my fault, that I love video games. Don't care a whit about being coy and sexy. I didn't ask for it, but this is me. I am a thinker. A seer and a feeler. I am a dreamer, who is lost in the possibilities of life. I don't care about the limits of reality. It's not my fault that they are there. Real people don't understand me. It's not their fault; I rarely do myself. They are grounded in everyday life problems, while I fly free among the stars. Yet I fly alone. My thoughts and feelings unheard by those below. I scream them out, but no one hears me anymore. If I had company, I'm sure the journey would not be as hard. But it's not my fault, and I won't take responsibility. It was Society that trapped them in the ground. I can only laugh at their ignorance, as I look over my shoulder. Because it's really not their fault either. They just pretend that it is. |
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Angel feathers falling softly over the earth while the world sleeps, Deafening, silencing movement. Its cold breath freezes the earth in its proper time, Releasing her three months later. The wind moans low in the branches, Whipping snow in the air. It rustles branches and dead leaves like an instrument, Sounding with a beat the Creator only knows. A haunting image. A cold touch of Death. An eternal silence imposed by the season. A law no one is willing to break. A harsh cry from a passing crow startles the dreaming world. Then she turns over and sleeps again. And again. And again, and Again. The snow on the trees is like sugar, So sweet, melting at a touch. Life and Death swirl in the midst of a running wind, Rippling the crystals fallen from the sky. Again. The ocean sings a siren's lullaby, Calling to something deep within my blood. I cannot resist. Her arms are around me, Pulling me deep into the bosom of life. It knocks the air out of my chest, Yet I feel so much more alive. I feel connected to something, Someone so much greater than myself, As I float in a gushing well of vitality. I belong. I find understanding in this giant pool of tears That washes away my pain and fear. I am nothing, lost in the silence of the waves, Powerless in the swells. It seems to me the ocean plays a game with my heart, Always just beyond my hand's reach, Singing, "Catch me if you can." It was in October that we went apple picking. Excitement made the pock-marked leaves flutter as much as did the crisp breeze, reminding us of the coming winter. First frost had already iced the fruit, made their juicy flesh so ripe and sweet, so white, clear and pure. Like the day we picked apples, like friendship. The newly painted red tractor pulled us out into the orchard. The day was not only a celebration of the harvest, but of friendship as well. We ate more than we picked and placed into rough bushel baskets. We laughed and sang, more than what we spoke in truth. It was a festival, a feast dedicated to the love between mankind. We live life to the fullest, then cry when that time is spent. A thousand years is too soon, for our friendship to end. There is now sorrow on my tongue, bitter-sweet like apples in the orchard unpicked. The hills are crowned in mist, like a shawl over the earth's shoulder. I see the world in shadow, my eyes half-closed, as I lose myself in the mist and magic it brings. It calls to me, summoning me home. Down deep within the heart of the earth, where the ages begin. Ages of light, of joy and peace. Ages of darkness, of hate and sorrow. Battles and wars yet to come. Summoning me into a crystal cave of knowledge. Like a sword in a stone. Like the wind to the sea. It brings me together to a place that has never been. Suddenly, a ray of sunlight breaks my trance. I awaken from this mad dream. The spell of this place is broken. Yet I remember. I remember glory and might, sadness and pain. I remember the endless days. I remember all. I sit here, quivering with power, with tears on my face. I cry for the people because I remember all. A circle of stones, in antiquity born. Taken from the bones of the earth for men to praise the world. To honor the fiery eye of the god, who brings water to the earth. To show respect to the nature around, that animals, trees and the people are children of a greater one. Stones to mark the moon's travels in the sky, to show where north becomes south. To point the beginning of a new year of growth and prosperity. A circle of stones entrusted long ago, with secrets of the world. Written in a tongueless language. Worn away with wind and rain. A broken circle of stone from another age. Old, yet mysteriously still, filled with the knowledge of a time lost in legend. |
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| Music from Final Fantasy III, Gau's Theme. | ||||||||
