Tag: Worry

Short Prose – 300 Words – “Always, Never Lit” – Romanticism – 12/12/2020

How many tears can I hold, in arms, that do not carry the future? I cannot even carry the present forward, for I hold the blame in me. I hold the scars close, the present watered from my eyes, with the blue seas around my feet. Land is so far away. Same with daylight.

Though, the night?

The realm where each thing becomes so bright, encased by the sheer suddenness of what it represents. A coffin. One plug that was pulled, for a life, that had sung songs from its once-beating heart. An encasement, for a tangle of limbs, yet straightened by the funeral home. A house for open burials, where tears released from cheeks, like leaves from bent boughs. It is Autumn, somewhere, though the night shows chapters of winter.

Brightness, and encased, in that box. What it represents is a thing now unplugged, of a life, lowered into the empty space. A void, or a spot where trees are meant to grow. They still loose their leaves, the same as decay falls from the wilting carcass.

How did she last? How does she still remain? I no longer hold her, nor see the pitiable eyes that stared to me. She faces the dust of an eternity, without. No longer a dream may haunt her, as no more a heart can keep her awake.

I buried what I once threw a vow, forward to. I let go of something that never released. This room disturbs me, what with walls brandished in porcelain darkness. The corners threaten me, scorn me, ridicule the nothingness of me. Is there anything left to berate? A brokenness of damage, with life curtailing about its open volumes. Just chapters left to be remembered, of a fuse stayed to be extinguished.

Quote – “How there is Ease to every Difficulty” – 6/1/2020

“In our current times, pain is seen as subjective, along with much else. It is seen in this fashion, only to divide ourselves into a competitive state, of believing one person’s pain deserves more attention than another. From the Socialist mindset, to ‘take care’ of the individual from a governmental standpoint, would mean to inject worry and fear into a populace. From this, there will be leaders wondering who can be better suited to being treated. For how else does a person say that their pain is not needing simplicity to be treated, when they will instead add complexity to it? They will add these complications, act as infants, so that they are treated first. In such pain, they believe themselves special, crying out as loud as the infant.”

– Anonymous

Poem – “The Many Tears that Seek Shelter” – Romantic

I fell beside thee,
And formed for us, quilt made of romance.
I love all that you are, of all eyes made to be orbs,
For the future’s peering, into its watery distance.
We sail in our fear,
And quake beneath tears,
Oh, how terrible are the stars under your eyes,
You’ve made a bed for us both,
A bed of love, made fullest in silken quilts.

Famed, we have become.
In love, we are as one,
As two creatures, of Buck and Doe,
A chase, a nest upwards in Heaven.
Oh, how desire sweeps us to the current and its edge
Near a river; for how does death think of us?
Love is a muse; It is made to be you,
As you are the loveliest pearl from this shore.

Give me kisses, sweet one,
Full of life,
Full of your eyes,
With no more raining stars,
With no more idle flesh,
No more death.
Nothing but the truly fascinating face,
Of white cheeks and bleak tress.
Lovely in form, anguished at heart.

I will cure the sorrow,
The one so much alike the Mary of Christ;
For how many times have we embraced,
As vulnerability! As vulnerability!
We are only made beautiful, when loved.
“Oh, love, when will be reach the shores,”
You ask to me.
I say in response to you,
“Soon as the sail is full of wind, and your eyes!
When they never fall another tear, we will reach.”

Give me the benefit of a morrow,
Of a delight, not made by sorrow.
What have I, when not among you?
Nothing, for am I not without the sanity,
And insanity, that love bequeaths.