She cries when she sings,
But sometimes shell just swirl up and fly,
holding, waiting, wavering
then like a feather in flight
she'll whisper by
then shine like a dream
and even resound older dreams ...
she sings as she cries ...

i love it so i wondered why

Willoan (Continued)

And the dream of desire did Willoan dream. Once he sat, awake in the darkest hours of night, wondering what it was like to yearn. to yearn for a person, a thing and emotion. Wondering and not feeling. Only imagining what it would be like to feel the dark wind of desire upon his being .. until the day that he was cursed.

Walking by a glade he heard a tingle. A soft murmur he mistook for the wind at first. But soon his being was aware that this sensation was far more than any he had felt before. It was a shiver riding through his body, a sensation wilder and stronger than any he had ever felt. He moved through the glades like a being possessed. A man at his wits end, searching frantically for the essence that had ensnared his mind. Searching for the one who would set him free. For he knew it was more than a mere thing. It was more.
More than he had known and more than he could fathom.
He moved through the grass, dancing to the tunes of the winds till they led him to the deepest depth of the wilderness and revealed to him the knowledge they had for so long kept preserved. Waiting for him of pure mind. Waiting for a heart that could capture it, waiting for the beat that would match its passion, waiting for the soul that would stir at its calling. And He was here. Here to feel its majesty, here to respond to its call. The trees might now know to what they had called, the darkness did not know what it had enveloped, the birds did not know to what they sang, but He knew. For he was in love.
A dark message it certainly was, a road wrought with fear, passion and pain. One destined to send those of a weak heart running for the familiarity of loneliness, for the weariness of an existence devoid of love.
But Willoan was smitten. He knew the pain was but a risk, a price for a gift life had bestowed upon him. Love was his to call and her's to answer. Even if she was never his, his emotions could not be denied. They, for truth, were there, an absolute in no ones powers to deny. He may suffer, he may wilt in pain but now he knew of an existence far higher than any he could have have imagined. He wished for her but the existence of this love was more than enough to dignify his existence.
He was in love, and that is all that mattered.

Suppose your arm is numbed and then cut. You can see the hand crippled, your bones ragged ends jutting out .. your feet lie stained in small pools of blood you can see flies sitting on the heart of the wound ... little pieces of flesh falling down from the rotting ends.. but you simply don't feel the pain that you should be searing through what was once your arm.

Next imagine your sitting in the room next door but not numbed. You can see the little axe kept near the door that the man in the black mask will soon wield, but you do not know what he will do to you. Something is bound to happen, the gleam of the blade tells no lies. You could live, die or be crippled. But maybe tonight or tomorrow or some day when you just wake up from a sweet dream shouting as the pain rips you apart. But sometime later the pain will fade and you will be able to feel what is left of your body.

Which is worse?

Watching your friend get hurt or waiting to be hurt yourself.

I pray i never find out.

Sighing a melody that even i cant define

walking down a pathway that i wont tonight

its like a dream meets a nightmare

like a spirt floating down

a mystery of the obvious

pains of pleasure abound

when the mind is so numbed

that every pain seeps too deep

when you can feel your heart beating

but not the blood in your feet

when you sit down to swallow

the gulp of air you couldnt breathe

oh its the darkest of days

in the clearest of nights

dream, wont you dream

another terror for me

dream wont you dream

another mystery to be

when the pain is so sharp

that being numb is all you care

when the suffocating chimes

of the distant lands roar

all your mind is a sanctum

for all the beast in your head

when screaming is the only

thing that saves your mind

scream another dream for me

wont you scream again for me

Pain is an elixir as much as it is a poison.

Someday it will make you feel like your life has been the same drag for an eternity and the next it will make you fall in a new hell you never knew existed.

Its a pill you hate to swallow but life jostles it down your throat anyway.

Its a drug you want to quit but your not aware of a life without.

Its a sorrow at times too shallow to hide yet usually deep enough to hurt.

Its the darkness of the night that swallows you whole yet has a moon shining to make you think you can see your path.

Willoan

There lived a shy being called Willoan. Deep in the forests did he dwell. Alone, like the scattered wind that roams its kingdom with the company of many but alone still for none bides by his way for more than their calling.
So roamed the realms of the worlds our Willoan but after each of his journeys to his joyous little garden did he return. hidden deep in the woods, in the middle of a shallow pond he spent his days. Dreaming, of the stars that bejewel the night, whispering to the birds that brought him tidings of his merry worlds afar, leaning on the dark trees as they swayed with the mighty winds and let their leaves rustle when they glided softly by.
Alone in this majesty did he reside. Never in want of anything, never living with the fears of the day. He followed the eve into its descent for the night and the night back into tis climb for the dawn. He pranced in the meadows with the deers and swallows and lurked in the night with the wolves and their shadows. A life of tranquility was his, but still filled with the phatom of desires.
A phantom I say for he had only heard of this thing they called esire but enver had he known it in its truest sense. For all that he had ever imagined was his, he had wnadered the world afar from the shores of the north to the white mountains of the South. Alone and in company had he drifted, passing by the corridors of the woods and then by the riverside. He had seen what the world had to offer and in contenment did he survive. Desire to him was nothing more than the mist of a dream we wake up from but once awake its always a little shadow on the corners of our eyes, flirting with our senses, always slipping away the moment we bend out to touch it. So my friends, desire he had felt but knowing is altogether a different crime.

to be continued

To be lost and never found

To be lost and never found, to swim around and never drown.

To live by the night and die by the day, to fall in love and then fall back all over again.

Walking down the hall to the upstairs basement, or looking through the glass at the image of your shadow.

Lifes got you confused ,, like in a hazy and dreary dream, dont know where to go, dont know where you've been.

Keep returning where I've already been ....lost to be never found, always just turning around.

Drowning, if only to swim around.

A series of questions with answers in parables ..stories of the past meant just to steer your future away.

For my friend, 'Dont look into the blinding dark or ull end up burnt and blind,

dont loose your faith again .. for this time it might not be found.. may be lost and never found.

The End

He lit another cigarette as she came into the room. He never glanced in her direction or moved from his place as the room slowly drowned into the smoke. The matchstick would have burned his finger had it not been for the draft of chilly wind that seemed to creep in from somewhere. It swept into his clothes and chilled his blood at length. Enough to make any man shiver but not enough to distract this one.

His mind stayed focused on her. And hers on him.

She walked around the room, circling him. But at the very same time the man showed his first signs of motion as his head fell into his hands resting on the table and a small gasp of breathe emanated from him. A slight sob could be heard.

The woman looked on as the cigraette lay dancing on the table, swaying here then there in the draft as the man slowly gathered himself up and motioned as if to stand up but collapsed right back into his chair. She could not bear the look of desolation on his face and it was all she could do to even pray that she could cry. The man turned to his side so he was no longer facing her. He tried to pick up the cigarette again but his fingers seemed unable to perform even this act. His face was one of a man crying in despair but no tears streaked his face.

And then all of a sudden a small smile came across his face. Not a creature of joy but the gray wisp of a smile of one who has nothing to loose and only the mystery to stare into.

One who has naught but little hope and destiny to cling on to.

She moved towards him and said out loud as if making a declaration, "Fate played a cruel hand to you. But dont despair. There is always more to things than we can understand."
And at the same time he looked up at the cieling and exhaled; then in a quiet absolute whisper he said, "I wish i had told you how i felt. I wish we could turn back time. There is a desire in all our hearts to redo things as and how we could make the most of them. I wish i could live back my life again. Make all my mistakes again learn all those lessons all over. But most of all i wish i could undo the one thing that has led us to where we are." And with that finality he let the cigarette drop.

The clock ticked 5 minutes to noon.

The door opened and two uniformed guards came to escort him to his destination.

The woman followed him as he walked ahead with his head held high and the same smile on his face. The two men besides him felt a small chill going up their spine and looked back at nothing.

As they reached their common destination they set the man down at his assigned place and then took up theirs.
"For the murder of your wife, in the second, by causing acts leading to her death while in medical care, the state condemns you to death by electrocution. May the Lord have mercy on your soul"

The woman watched as they killed the one man who had set her free from all the suffering this world had bestowed upon her. She watched as her man died for saving her from a torment she had begged him to end.

________________

The End

________________

Not really a story, but a question.........

Mr schmidt used to say to himself that he was very hollow inside. Infact he was.

He could not feel remorse, sadness, pain, exuberence. Nothing.You might say he did not know if he was even human anymore. But certainly not divine or inhuman. No no... certainly not that.

But what is a person when he no longer feels, cares, cries or laughs. All this when he knows he should. He knows he should feel remorse when his lady left him saying she was forever someone elses and then had an affair with a third man.

He knew he should be sad. Maybe... maybe he could also have cried. He had cried in front of her once had he not. And now that she had, to his mind, betrayed him in sorts, he should be ready to break down. Had not he dedicated every moment he was with her and every other to making her life better. Was she not the focus of his existence. Maybe he should even loose all hope and faith. He knows this is what he would have expected of himself earlier.

But the fool just doesnt feel. Anything.

He cares very much about what happened and whats happening, much like an analyst, but he certainly doesn't feel anything about it.

He doesnt feel guilt like he used to when he didnt complete his own goals for work or just doesn't care about the results anymore. He feel he no longer needs the support he once banked upon.

He feels very squarely and truly dead indeed.

He doesn't feel the surge of happiness when the woman he wanted to give his heart to smiles at him... maybe because he doesnt want to risk anything anymore. It is humanely possible to hide the person in you. Maybe forever. maybe just long enough. If your not sad you must be happy. Isnt that how it works. Or is there a middle ground. Or maybe his state doesnt exist in this realm. Its outside the terms of reference. A silent grayness along the pictures of stark black and night.

Mr Schmidt knows the world doesnt know anything about this or that any part of this thats going on in his mind. He's glad or those who care about him might make a mess or when they dont see him sad maybe theyll assume hes happy. No point in bothering those kind souls.

He doesn't really know what to do but one things for sure.. he'll continue to be stone dead forever......

shouldnt he...???

My Fate, and maybe yours too…

Every time I see the mirror

It’s a face staring blank

Shadows of my past;

the ghosts of yesterdays.

My life is naught,

it haunts me still.

Every face, a hollow tear.

Deathly lives, shadowy graves

The pain is here to stay

My life does fade away

The death of yesterday

A blank on tomorrows face

The plague consumes it all

All at stake, lost everything.

The worlds collide, as I try my last sacrifice.

Save it all again,

from a dark retribution.

The messiah of death is here,

Who will save god now?

Fear is his name,

death his slave.

Clasping the blade of death

the reaper is here to stay.

Lost within my head

he steers me to my grave

Death will take us all

But fear will lead and sway.

To a hollow life,

a meaningless fight.

We fight but do not know

the prize dearly awaits!