I awake this morn with watery eyes – strained still, from the countless lives they’re forced to bare witness to throughout the odd hours of both day and night. There is a weight to them now that I cannot fully put into words. A weight in them so heavy, that the very burden has long since begun to take a toll on the rest of vessel – like shackle’s. Colder air settling in has always brought with it the ability to to stir my mind in strange ways. The very touch of it on my skin, sends my thoughts into a frenzy, forcing the pain and the longings to resurface – like some unattended medical flare-up. It sends me back to a time that I can almost remember, catching glimpses of memories that were never mine, but close enough for me to steal and charade them as my own. I can trace their steps far enough backwards to fixate on their origins; their very owners, now long since dead and gone within a deep and murky abyss – claimed by the days that lead to the death of an advent and the darkest nights which preceded it. But born in their aftermath, my fate was never made clear; no, still I remain, forced to bare witness to the seemingly infinite unraveling of this reality and the very foundations that once held it together, forced sit and mourn over the lost love and lives that were never truly mine, forced to exist within a realm to take in copious amounts of seemingly useless information in hopes to grab hold of one spec or gem of gnosis – to manifest the exist I so strongly long for.
Returning to this place floods my mind with the terror of old. The fear of losing the truest love I had ever known, the pains and longings which grew stronger and stronger with each passing day, the innate desire to run – run from all the hopes and expectations of what I was yearned to become, and so much more. These are all things of the past now, a past that may as well never existed. The passage of time has not felt the same since that fateful night; a night which I will not go into detail here, but rather, a later time proceeding my thirsts and hungers, and all other mortal things which still appear to keep me bound even now. But despite time no longer feeling the same, I can feel a shift as it takes place, whilst looking out over these vibrant, glowing fields. The sun has begun to bleed, still cut by the knife made from a serpents state of mind, and now it draws the blood which will surely spill into an hourglass forged for the very purpose of keeping track of what time remains for my frivolous pursuits; for until now, I have avoided the attention of the fates fruitions, there hands once skimming the abyss, seeking to grab hold of something tangible to claim as their own – like searchlights seeking out a thief in the night.
Yea. a time draws where true change is to be met; whether for my own benefit or not, the circles and cycles that had once held my existence together are now tearing and tattering before my tired eyes. But before that time can be met, I know that a final hunt must ensue. A indulgence into my deepest and darkest desires of this phantom nature, a divulgence from all of monotonous and aimless ponderings of day to day existence, a degeneration to satiate every hungering ounce of this tomb that years to seek out and consume; for what is to follow shall leave no room for distraction, no patience for desires of the lavish sorts, and no tolerance of the fear that exists to cripple and stifle. So as I take my leave from this once sacred place, I know well that I may not return till the hour where cosmic balance is struck, perhaps with you at my side, or perhaps standing here alone – either way, I depart, grateful yet simultaneously resentful for all of which these cycles have provided, kept me trapped in. For they are now forces of the past of which shall never be conjured up, again.
