Tag Archives: darkness

Withering roots

He stood in the sandstorm defiant but weak. He knows it was happening, it was only a matter of time. In arrogance, he’d dug his roots deep into the ground, dreaming of giving it life. Instead, his roots have long since died – they were only gold and glitter in his mind. But deep inside, they were fragile – they were dying like the dust particles strewn around by the wings of a butterfly.

His tears his the ground and the sand breathed life, but his sacrifice has died long before it was made. It was ridiculed, it was hated, it was shunned by all as he stood there wet in his confusion. The tears left trails of memories across his face like dry lakes and rivers. Death slowly spread up from his roots into his legs. But he just stood there, dying in the gloom of his despair and fears.

He’d never been the kind of person who would look at the future – that was the realm of the clairvoyant. He only knew how to dig into the dreams and chew on hope to sustain himself. He regretted the falling petals that left him bare to the elements of the chipping little axes. He pushed his roots down deeper as the singing continued to drift from far away.

The floating fish appeared in and out, one minute at his roots the other whispering in his ear. It was not comfort anymore, however. When it found him again this time, he was broken – the remnant of who he was when he bloomed in that fateful winter. Now it was too late for him. He had failed to make piece with his dreams and his fears, but they couldn’t care less. They both just stood there, unlovable witnesses to the rot eating away at his root.

There is no life in that soil anymore. What once stood defiant was now just one more sick lie made in the face of the piranhas that swam through the sandstorm. All he could see was their stealing little knives biting at his proud branches that once picked color directly from the sun. In a purple storm, the sandstorm consumed him, bringing him down to his knees.

In a last frantic attempt he cried out to the ground, looking for something to hold him in place – to save him one more time. But the ground had no life. It never did. He only thought so in his arrogance of blind. There had ever only been death that moved through his blood. He was born to a grand visage, only to die in the piss of failed dreams. He cried out to the sun, but he knew it has long since forgot him.

His roots withered, and the stings of the sandstorm took away his eyesight. All he could see was his lifeless blood, drawing out cosmic rays of life around the world. All he could do was sigh as the rot spread out through him, finally bringing him to his knees to lay with the other lifeless dreams that have died here.

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Fly a kite

Courtesy of poissantfamily

I just wanted to fly a kite.

I wasn’t asking for too much. I had a beautiful kite and it was in my hand. It was right there along all the dreams and hopes of a younger me. I just wanted to run across the vast emptiness, throw it high in the air and watch myself become a giant through it.

I wanted to touch all those places I couldn’t because I was so small, even though I was born to rule them. After all, there’s a reason why I never quite managed to grow up. There’s a reason why every single time I was cornered, I ran away. I had to fly the kite because I had to get a touch of that heavenly bless of leaving everything behind just for a while.

I wanted to write a million poems that I fell in love with for fleeting seconds. I wanted to tell stories that live in the prison of my mind and bang against my skull like madmen waiting to make their escape so they may dance in the undercurrents of the flowing spring. I wanted to juggle toothbrushes in a circus and kiss a bird’s beak behind the bushes. I wanted to make critters cry at the songs I write when I am laying in the tall unkempt grass of the dying garden. I wanted to get bit by a spider because, you know, it just might work.

I just wanted to fly a kite.

It could have solved everything – everything in the world. It could have made sense of the morning insanity and made peace with the maddening nights. It would have been my way out of mediocrity and into the true greatness I’ve striven for since I started looking at the stars.

Except it wouldn’t fly. Just when the wind was picking up speed, just when I was starting to run fast enough, just as my feet started to lift off the ground, it plunged straight to the leathery ground. It quickly shattered all those dreams of duality; of being man and god, of being part of the bigger scheme of things while also drawing it.

It all started slipping through my hands and all that I was left with was the elusive rain; wetting my hair and wetting the kite. Grounding us forever in the muddy remnants of what we sought to leave.

Survival struggles here, greatness dies here, and everything in between never really existed.

Flicker

It’s not the darkness that scares me. I can learn to make my peace with that just like I made peace with the light before. It’s not the thought of an endlessly stretching black pearl of an existence that scares me. I have learned to deal with stuff before, there’s nothing I couldn’t handle there.

What scares me is that moment when the light starts to flicker. It is then when I start glimpsing the lurking figures at the far sides, just barely out of my sight but slowly heaving in the dark. The light flickers again and they move ever so closely, ever just out of reach, menacing me with their sightless stares.

It is right there on the edge that my fear takes hold of me. There’s no reason to be scared, says the tiny voice that’s always besides me, but I don’t listen to it. I can’t listen to it. The truth is, the light is flickering, heaving it’s final sighs before it goes off – the start of that eternal morbid storm of teary eyes streaming with watery makeup.

And they move ever closer, with their ruby eyes and deathly tentacles, to claim their prize. It’s been light for too long after all, and I have done my share of terrible things. My dreams were never mine to keep, they were just there to remind me I’m still human.

There’s nothing proud about me when the light flickers again, almost dying out but coming blinking back for one more go. Nothing proud there at all. How long has it been since the lights were bright anyways? How long since the shapes weren’t distorted? How long till it all ceases to make sense, and starts to make sense?

The lights heave one more time, it smiles sadly at me. I tried, it says, I tried for as long as I was given.

I stand, a man, and the flickering stops.