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| <<<>>> |
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| Created by Decius at
| [+ favourites]
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I could conceive of death but not betrayal. I would have laid my head down with a smile on my face if it meant the survival of my faith. The love in my heart is shattering. My visions of the world before me resemble a painting. A painting whose colors run, devoid of the desire to remain beautiful any longer.
The senses that I had grown accustomed to trusting and loving now prove to be painful reminders of my situation. The situation of a man lost in a forest. A forest he planted the seeds for. Trees he had seen grow before him now cage him. And even now he is unable to accept that they are threats. No longer his children.
The dark wood lays before me and a grand forest of green is no more. I sit, huddled in the corner of my mind. Every moment is an act of discipline. Holding onto what I must in order to get through each and every day. But my heart tells me the truth. That this path will never ascend. That I will, and must, go lower before I am to go higher. And I fear what lays below me.
Every moment of solitude when I may assess the situation with some level of control is repeated. I pray to whatever God may exist in every part of the world. I have no allegiance because I am begging. I am begging as I see the water fill my boat. I am begging whilst I sink lower. I am begging knowing I will sink. I beg to anchor my faith to some deity. Some deity I know will not come to save me. It is an act of pathetic desperation. And I must do it.
Memories of my blindness are cruel and unforgiving. Every moment, blotched with what I can only describe as a piercing pain. As if I were being penetrated by some cold sharp object. They taunt me. They simultaneously make me despise and pity myself. For I know that the world is as it is. Yet I believe that it should not be so. And this is the pain. That it is.
To love something so selflessly. To protect it. To cherish it. To amplify its exposure. To adore it. To realize it does not believe you believe in it as much as you do. To realize it took its precautions whilst you laid yourself down. To curl myself up into a ball. To let the truth consume me. To feel it eat me. To horrifically watch the painting run, distorting once happy faces. To put my palms together and pray. With absolutely no belief in what I am praying for. To wish for a warm hand to take my cheek and tell me I am mistaken. To feel the cold breeze remind me I am not. |
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| Created by Decius at
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