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Wednesday, December 11, 2013

A Reflective Walk...

Relentless sorrow dims my walk as I allow myself to squint my eyes against the backdrop of the morning sunrise. The river before me stretches out endlessly, placid and polished....its surface is not reflective of its true contents, the mirrors are only there to deceive. The multi-colored flora of clouds above the horizon erupts across the landscape bringing sublimity and enhancement to areas not in search of such illumination, at least not this morning. I step forward emotionally and struggle to land each step evenly on the soles of the uneven and unforgiving substrate beneath me. The souls of others not as precisely balanced upon my shoulders waver from side to side as my gait quickens. Scales, weights and measures all conspire against the progressiveness of my intentions. In the distance, I hear a faint wailing but I choose to ignore the screams of those left for dead, their hearts long ripped from the breastplate of their own selfish existence. From smiles to sorrow, the blood runs deep. Crimson rivers of regret slosh aimlessly from the edge of my blade across my trousers leaving vibrant channels of evidence plain as day for the commoners to see. I choose to no longer hide my blade nor the blood of my travels. I am the purveyor of pain for countless souls who possessed the momentary audacity to cling to my promises and lose themselves against the belief that I was a cause valiant enough to believe in. Foolishly subscribing to a misplaced conviction, they lost everything and the masquerades continued to sell out their performances night after night. Puppets dance and shimmy across the tired wooden planks exploding in a mixture of revelry and lust, saving one last dance before reaching the end of their beam. The zenith of their own shaken purpose in this lifetime at last revealed, just before their demise.

Arriving back to my white stone abode, I sit casually in front of the earthen fireplace now reeling its flames high into the room, blistering the air with its sparkling embers. I sit alone, cold, my blade now rested against the stone hearth reflecting nothing but the blinding amber storms in its immediate proximity. Erased from the carved metallic skin are the carbon remains of my travels. For now, I remain tempered and purified by the flames that some might believe bring forth only destruction. For now, I rest my blade not allowing myself to continue to do the same. For now, I am content in knowing that as long as my blade remains still, life and love will be given a season to replenish without the fear of reprisal and the uncertainty of my chaos.

You chose to return. I need to remain.
Cut the strings.
Restore the performance.