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Forever's song....Forever's song
.With heart sung bright, and Winter's breath drawn hushed,Dreamlike visions of Crusoe's Catte, fall weary upon.Deep sown a shore, of wild meanders.Birthed at last, in woven pale hues,These sights which comfort mine eyes.Bathe and soothe, a balmy sonnet to forever.
Diary of an immortal - VIIDiary of an immortal - VIIJuly 1stThese skirmishes that I have fought for the past several weeks, seemed now to have turned into one never ending assault upon the very fabric of what I hold dear. I believed in false hope that I would have the energies to outstrip that which assails me, but I fear greatly now that I do not.Is this some form of omnipotent judgement on me, that causes these constant failings of my mind, or is it in its most simplest form, a mere indication that no matter what path my thoughts take, any choice is forever taken from me.I do not any more possess the wherewithal to understand this no more than I will ever it seems, come to any solution to that which ails me.That I should fall so far from the grace held preciously within le sanctuaire de chartreuse, destroys what little is left within my soul. I am afraid these days to lift my head that I should be filled with dismay once more at the hopelessness of my situation. I see no end to this
Becoming smaller....With my hand held in his, as tight as always I rememberSecure yet so frail, my thoughts pour overIn this public space, where we become but cattleCheap and expendable, human no moreWith my memories abundantWith mine eyes laden and fullI find myself once more, dwelling on moments forever lostTangible and self-tormented, knowing with certaintyWaiting on his words, on the smallest bit of himThey shall happen neverThey shall not appearHis eyes tight shut, beaten and weary-bonedA lifetime of provision, with ne'er the slightest complaintFeeling such impossibilities, that I may ever be likeI am made of himI am become himThe effort of one single smile, etched deep in hurtful poseAnd helpless questions reign, amid the silence of sufferanceRegression overload, the changeling of decades goneHe is now the childHe is helpless apparentTo do as he did before for me, I wouldst take his pain in placeBreathe his fear willingly, of the butcher and old timeYouthful sparkle blinks on