And one I wrote for Lusternia recently...
A gentle, whispering breeze stirs the air, playfully tugging at my hair, throwing it into my eyes. Such a simple thing, and I am filled with remorse, an insistent and underlying pain. The essence of things may not be lost, yet things are not the same. Time and time I have turned, forsaking that which I held to my heart. I run fingertips down my arms, tracing the raised flesh there, recalling conversations from years long past. A name, given in amusement.
Paradox.
Is this what life has fallen to? A series of past recollections, and a longing for the family that had forsaken me in turn. I study the rings of scar tissue at each wrist, shivering with a faint echo of the dark rush that thrilled through my veins when I offered myself to the Lady. Now, I mouthed the words, gave empty prayers to things I did not believe in, whilst still holding those small fragments of Magnagora's tainted soil within the self-inflicted scarring I bore on each limb.
As years pass, and Gods in Their many forms rise and fall, I watch with a sort of weary longing for when I once belonged to things greater. Now, children pass, filled with self-importance and the righteous belief in their own wisdom, and I watch from the twilight and ponder on these things. I pretend a false and light-hearted humour. I play, I smile and giggle in this small, fragile body.
I remember those days, when the night sang with knowledge. The dark, haunting melody of forbidden lusts, lit by a pale blue radiance. The soft, soothing whispers of the winds in the clear skies, bringing a quiet clarity. When I had a place, confusing and violent as it was. Now, I may only tread this path on quiet feet, serving where I may and keeping this fierce ache within.
Paradox.
Is this what life has fallen to? A series of past recollections, and a longing for the family that had forsaken me in turn. I study the rings of scar tissue at each wrist, shivering with a faint echo of the dark rush that thrilled through my veins when I offered myself to the Lady. Now, I mouthed the words, gave empty prayers to things I did not believe in, whilst still holding those small fragments of Magnagora's tainted soil within the self-inflicted scarring I bore on each limb.
As years pass, and Gods in Their many forms rise and fall, I watch with a sort of weary longing for when I once belonged to things greater. Now, children pass, filled with self-importance and the righteous belief in their own wisdom, and I watch from the twilight and ponder on these things. I pretend a false and light-hearted humour. I play, I smile and giggle in this small, fragile body.
I remember those days, when the night sang with knowledge. The dark, haunting melody of forbidden lusts, lit by a pale blue radiance. The soft, soothing whispers of the winds in the clear skies, bringing a quiet clarity. When I had a place, confusing and violent as it was. Now, I may only tread this path on quiet feet, serving where I may and keeping this fierce ache within.