The hunt starts now

The hours have turned. A slow drone hangs in the air. It is almost daylight and the leader of the pack is awake and poised. Rising from the shadows they survey the terrain, backs arched and ready to strike. It has been a restless couple of days and sleep has not been a gracious visitor. The thick foliage is enough to cover their tracks but not thick enough to mask the growls slowly ebbing from their throats. One can barely breathe as the scent of blood fills the air. The prize is yet to be won and the hunt is on.

At sundown the dense forest will hide whatever has transpired. Perhaps heavy rain will wash away what should not have been. The wind will carry the tale and yet will be most inaccurate. My children will rise again another day, proud as ever, cunning and quick. Pray you do not encounter their wrath but only bear witness to their greatness.

The Kingdom in ruins

I am tired of you, says the Lady, weary yet restless as she finds herself awake close to witching hour. She may have reached a point when she no longer cares because he does not either.

He laughs and is amused but she does not find herself laughing. She looks up, Her make shift crown poised upon her head. Do you even hear what I say? And if you hear do you actually listen? In spite of your griping, realize this, that you make your own problems and you relish the time spent in battle so much so that I am afraid that I will someday be left without strength to lead you again to the path that saves you.

Remember that quiet day? That scene where the water hits the shore in that summer place lost and hidden. It now seems so far away, and as unlikely as the tide ever settling on where it should be. Will you ever look into someone’s eyes long enough and not look away even when the world calls out to you ever so invitingly. I look into yours and I see nothing. I stare at my own and I do not even see myself. The sea has drowned the black livid pools that once was there. I am left with nothing more to say, and such deafening silence. Silence that only I can hear. The Lady weeps, but she is left without a listener, he is long gone.

Court day

Three months to the date and the order of the day is thus...A confession, a discovery and a witness.

The months dragged on and the heat and tension, despite the pelting rain, was so thick you can cut it with a knife. Later in the evening, between gourmet finger food and cherry red disguises a confession takes place and then an awkward silence follows, ending the question. Not the question that will eventually beg an answer and yet remain unanswered, because after all the real question was yet to be posed. Posed by the judge? The prosecution? Digested by the jury, all of whom had not yet received their summons.

At break of dawn, the light seeps through the window and a discovery takes place. It is disturbing. And it seems as if the glass dome taunted by a spider vein crack was ready to break. The bells of the cathedral have been rung and the archbishop has awaken. Has the inquisition begun?

There is panic in the air and the slightest whisper brings darting glances and reduces the average 72 beats per minute to half. Tick-tock, tick-tock goes the non-existent clock.

Civil law may very well become public law in this case. BUT the defendant is nowhere in sight, no plaintiff has come forward. The court cannot come to order.

The view is lonely at the witness stand. Me, myself and I. Dare I speak without being asked? The hearing is dismissed, at least until another day. Then the court comes together again, as it will day after day after day after day. No judgement shall pass but an explanation shall be expected, and soon.

The question is..when will that day be?

The Calm before the Storm

Usually it is the storm that people fear most but it is actually quite the opposite. It is the calm silence and the seemingly tranquil sky that is most treacherous. I await the storm but remain wary of the events that build up to it. There is nothing to do but wait. Until that time, I shall recall days of whirlwind romances and promises that once were..looking to attain full circle.

If stars were pieces of my heart,
They would fill the sky with endless light.
And bury deep within your soul,
Embrace your emptiness, Embrace you whole.

Seek the depths of where you lie,
Fill each dark night with brightened sky,
Bestowing upon you a love that will always be
Enduring till it consumes the very life of me.

Memories of the sea

How do you start understanding the complexity of man? How odd that man can possess so much goodness and yet the tiniest of flaws which he himself is not able to control no matter how much he wills it can cause the most complicated of situations. I cried again today, I let the sea and the rain wash away the tears and yet when asked why they came I am caught in a stupor. Then I realized the sadness I felt for him, for her, and things I could not control anymore and should just allow to unravel was my own. Memories from the past slowly exposing itself and wanting to be known once again. It was as if the tide that was at bay for the longest time suddenly decided to rise and cover the remainder of my safe and happy island.

It was partly my story, though this one had yet no ending. A love starting, another slowly becoming just embers. A pair is never three and a couple is always binary. Somewhere along the way, the round robin happens and then there is one left with none. No one.

The wound has never closed, though I do not regret anything. I to this day wish though that there was an ally nearby to call my own, a friend who does not change with the season nor is limited by the hours in the day. Someone.

Then again not all stories are alike. I try hard to think they do not and somehow this will still defy convention. As if it has not already. She is fine one day until her questions creep in. Tomorrow, next week, next month. He is torn between hurting and loving and plays the scene in his head and convinces himself it is all okay. She is overwhelmed by it all and has sworn loyalty to no other.

And I stand as a listener, an alert observer, sometimes a heartless torturer, a mime whose smile reveals more than what she actually knows and in all angles a faithful friend.

What is the saving grace of man? What with all these does he still remain to be the most exalted of all creatures? How does no one turn into someone? One will never understand. It is the most well kept secret of all.

Afraid to drown, wanting to be normal

I have a vile secret, though it is not mine to begin with. By virtue of friendship and the ties that bind I have been tasked to keep it. The past month has not been easy and I am torn everyday half hoping that I had the courage to tell someone and yet afraid to betray the trust that has been given to me. How do you keep a secret and live with it when you very well know that people you care about are also involved in it? How do you pretend that nothing is wrong and yet knowing what you know you are being eaten up inside. My smiles have been getting scarce when before it was a staple . I hate the feeling and sometimes I hate the secret just as much as I hate what has become of me and my friendship. The king has faltered and he has fallen...hard. The lady mayor is in grief and I knowing both of them is in a deep dark hole where I fear I will never be able to climb out. As for her who is in the middle of it all, I have decided to keep my distance. I am grieving for love lost, friendships stained and broken trust. I weep for me being the coward that I am, I weep for what might have been and what will be. I know deep in my soul that I will forever be weeping, some days more than others. I do not want to drown, i do not want to be numb. I am wanting to be normal again.