Friday, 21 October 2016
[COLOR=black][SIZE=14][FONT=Times]
I kneel forth in a circle of ancient stone, as the amber leaves fall to the ground. A cloak billows behind me as the biting winds screech their eerie howls as they flow through the bark swept branches, bereft of hue they reflect an ashen shade of grey to my eyes except where the occasional leaf still clings. I stretch a palm to the ground the stone is warm, it should not be so, this is frustrating, it should not be warm, or at least I should not feel it.
Soon the mist will rise and the shadow will sleep, for in the night, there can be stillness. Shall I lay my cold heart on this warm stone and feel the chance to shut my eyes, and let the twinkling light of stars steer me back to dreams. The hurricane that houses a small candle is my only light until the stars light up the night’s sky, its glass a pale shade of orange that emits just enough light for my eyes to linger on its flickering flame as I listen to the wind. In the few brittle moments of respite as they subside I can still hear the slow flow of the tides. Far they are to the south of these cliffs, but they clean the footsteps and footfalls I have made washing clean the past. The traces of my path can be read with the creases of lines that draw across my face.
A shiver slowly breaks my contemplation as the hairs on the back of my neck rise, a memory flickers across my thoughts as once a warm breath was enough to raise those tiny bumps,and let beat the nervous breath. It births a challenge for words, to somehow mirror the sensation of the faintest touch, as the trailing of cloth sends the lightest of scents, so unique and precious that the evanescence of mirth could not be suppressed.
I banish this memory now , and perspire as I do , heavy beads drench me as I shudder again , this time to banish the thoughts. I do lay on the warm stone as the tides of fall's leaves sweep past me as the winds carry them to renew the soil as it beckons for its blanket before winters sleep.
The new season will soon be upon us and to winter’s heart I must embrace. Be still and breathe, for in every breath that flows within me is one that once united us. It would be so much easier if I could let anger reign and wreak havoc. I am no child of solace, let the scorn of my person be the only remembrance , as I steal still the warmth of the stone, I dare not think I deserve this, but it is cherished nonetheless. Let the land prepare for its sleep and I will make my preparations for my march shall be long, and this time it will be alone.
[/FONT][/SIZE][/COLOR]
Matt Shadowsong posted @ 18:11 -
Link -
comments 005726 visitors
