Thursday, March 27, 2008

The past

Those caverns were deep and dark. And the passageways to the hidden memories reek with the stench of rot. I wander alone down there on the blackest nights, despair like a cold hard knot in my gut. I've opened doors that are best left alone, I've raised spirits from the ground. Awaken to the chill of my bones.

It seems we learn our lessons over and over, attempting to gain mastery over them. Sometimes we grow weaker with age and time, until crippled, we let it go.

There is no master, only the slave. The slave reacts, does not control. I've raised spirits from the ground, and now they are thirsty for my blood.

Inconsolable. This world has become so cold and barren. How does it ever preserve life?

6 comments:

Zathyn Priest said...

It seems some people are forced to learn the same harsh lessons over and over while other's skip through life relatively unscathed. Where's the justice in that?

Inconsolable. I totally get that.

butterflies said...

I dont know how it ever preserves life.
I have the same coldness,the same barren feelings.I reopen doors that should remain closed.I repeat the same mistakes too.
I feel as alone as you do tonight my dear polar and for once,I cant offer any wise words,but I can only share in your pain.
I feel deserted by my own unwillingness.
Hugs for us.

BPD in OKC said...

I love what you said

James said...

I think I'm in that same ice cave. Let's huddle together for support and try to explain away the dark shadows surrounding us. Where is my magic wand that I ordered when I was a kid?

Saima said...

You're such a good writer. It eases my pain reading you. Thank you!

Aqua said...

Polar Bear, I wish I could come over and give you a big "Polar Bear" hug. I here and feel so closely what you write about. I know no one can tell you it will be okay, but know I'm listening.