July 5, 2009

  • in simple terms (and simple times).

    I’m witnessing a drama.
    Drama.
    The beauty of interconnected souls, inadvertently ruining the impossible fathom of love.
    Peaks and valleys, increasingly bipolar
    as the remains of the heart float away.
    There is no hope.
    The protagonist has become the hunter
    Born without senses or sensation; heartless in perfect ignorance.
    The last remaining hero has been vanquished
    The one solitary warrior no longer holds the light of day.
    He has been wronged; left for dead without a Samaritan.
    Agony.
    Pain.
    Suffering.
    How can such common words summarize the life of a champion?
    History is penned by the victor
    So why doesn’t virtue hold the pen while falsehood falls by the sword?
    My heart goes out to you.
    You, who invest in the drama I watched so many years ago.
    The greatest battles are won in the dark of night
    Yet evil patrols this very domain.
    If life was meant to exist as a paradox
    Then why do we desire for all to be right?
    Stop reading your part in this drama.
    For just like the greatest dramas ever penned,
    The end is still fiction.
    Just like the beginning.