IM_roses_11y_1r.gif (4723 bytes)The darkness of the night…

The darkness of the night drapes quietly around my soul as the after-image, emblazoned on my minds’ eye, fades slowly from my view. The fantasy slips uncontrollably through my fingers like smoke drifting from the embers of a once brilliant fire, now but a pale reflection of the glory that once was. I saw the light. I gazed into the Heavens. I looked towards the Gods and was blinded by the view. The stars, that are but pallid imitations of the Sun, will never seem as bright for I now know the dawn.

But I have reached for the brass ring that could not be, and am now bloodied. Old scars, old wounds, never truly healed, weep again. And as the loneliness settles down around me, it is a feeling that I know too well. Almost comfortable in its’ familiarity. It settles around my shoulders like a black mantle of thick wool, all too heavy and yet, somehow, warm in its’ embrace.

As I sit longing for what may have been, I recognize what I have become. Unable to defend, to protect myself from the pain. The armor of my past, long ignored, now beckons to me, reminding me of the protection it once provided. It’s guardianship never failing, its’ impenetrability stopping all the treacherous edges thrust towards me. I was invincible .

Yet the sharpness of my senses were obstructed. I could not feel, could not touch. Guarded from the outside world by wrappings of stainless control, impenetrable in their design. So I remember. I remember well why I chose to walk this world in temperance. Walk without the trappings of my harness. Facing the dangers of my future. Risking new wounds that I cannot avoid, but hoping for the joys that life promises to others. And in the years gone by I have learned. Each soul that touches mine leaves behind a sense of longing that will not cease. Each encounter, Enshrining what once I may have been ever tighter in the grips of melancholy sadness, rebuilding that protective wall now new in its’ experience.

My soul cries to be free. All that my senses once could reach, now safe from my approaches. I am closed unto myself. And in our meeting I have learned again. This time a message from the Fates, far more cruel than before, for I now know of her existence. I now know that she walk this earth, as we have many times before.

But this life is different for she walks with another, and I will walk alone.

John G. Austen