The winter owl and the fiver splash

in #blog4 years ago

The tiny flame sprinkles on my face
and I look to the other side.

I remember just now that after years of looking into the past, the present has come. I am the one that brought the children into the night. I am the one that sprawled his legs on the streets and lied against the walls side to side, looking far into the horizon, between the walls, toward the end, toward the hill and the clouds.

I've always known that I was going to fall, but like this? This is absurd. I would never have thought that the little drums would beat to my realization today. The hands that were joined separate themselves and think of me. I have noticed many times that yonder, in the far, far past, somewhere far away, there is someone thinking about me. I google my name and it's there, written, recently.

It fades away like always. I always fade away after we realize the little things. I always fade away after they realize that I exist, but I am still here, thinking of you, my dear one, the one I first looked at between the fog and the hard door. I am here, being the sword that punctures your legs as you fall into the abyss.

Let me go past the winds in the north

My only hope is that as the stars fall, you will hold the door and let me fall with them since I have never done anything good that you may want to hold me into the ship for. I am fit for the void, for the garbage collection we call space and nothingness. I am the stars and the wonder in your mind when you think of the past long gone.

I hoped yesterday something different. I thought that the eyes that looked at me were looking at me with mercy. I have realized that their strength comes from the faith that they have that what I do is wrong. I am glad to have realized this. I am glad that after the bells toll, I will still be standing, for they are tolling for you. I will make sure of that.

I am the smaller end of the hand that touched your leg on that fateful day when you decided that life wasn't worth it. I am not fate. I could not claim that. I hold the hand of fate, by which destiny brings destruction to your long-thought-of decision to stay where the remainings of your life were. It's a shame that tradition has found a trail in the snow toward your heart. Truly a paining shame.

The wonder in your eyes will never perish as I exist. The wonder of your existence will never be an obstacle to your ultimate realization. The end will come. The end will come. The end has come. The end is here.




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