My dearest friend, my guardian, my watcher… what plagues you? For one whose presence was known, now your voice is quiet. For one whose brilliance once shone, now your light is faint. All things in time. Time is the blessing, the blessing for which the latter seems the same. The blessing of suffering and pain, yet one which experienced is indeed the same.
Time, enabler of silence. The means to an end… For which have you say my friend… is it within or without. What say you to my voice, the very voice which has been silenced? What say you to the light, for it was once ours to see in the darkest of nights… What thoughts have you to my query? The very thoughts I leave presented on the ground. My letter, my voice, my sound…
What say you to these things… shall I leave you be. Leave you with time? Shall I lay on the blanket of clouds and listen to the angels singings from above… Shall I wait for you? or is it Time… For you seem to have lost the battle… and become a prisoner to the mind…
Captivated and confused, we must lose the illusion of Time…. for what is it, truly?
“A magical place indeed”.
The air alive and glowing with energy, like a vivid dream… you could smell the ethereality of it…
“A peculiar, magical place….”
She had awoken to a scene and a dilemma. There before her stood two paths. Unlike others she traveled before…
where the long winding road lay before or behind or side to side…
“the light is brightest above, yet perhaps I shall wander below…”
Static clung to the light, bringing electricity to sound, sparks to sight…
A wind wispered in her mind…
“A magical place indeed”
She said these words aloud as she found her way down
DarkWood by the Necromancer
I see your light
Gaining strength as my heart thunders within its cave
I feel your presence
Surrounding me with brilliance
Filling me with sight
My limbs intertwine with peace
The shadows displaced from an abyss
What was once the hole
Is now filled and whole
All gained from the vision of light
All awoken from this glorious sight
poem inspired by a beautiful photograph taken by The Necromancer… thank you for the inspiration
Understanding life is one thing, asking questions and expecting answers is another. We can assume all we want that there is a purpose, a meaning, an answer. I believe there is, but why?
That is the question. Why is there Life? The meaning to the purpose to the question.
Why is there Life?
I don’t want science to tell me of the randomness, the probabilities, the unique and unlikely circumstance of it happening. I want to know why.
Here is a thought. Is the answer too big? Or perhaps the thought is too small? Can we fathom the question, or understand the meaning? Or are we simply answering ourselves? Questions keep spinning until…we stop asking. Our minds not equipped for the infinity of the questions. It keeps going, infinitely circling in our minds, until we forgot what we asked.
What did we ask again?
Such a small word, such a large possibility. Perhaps one day it will be not a matter of why, or how… it simply will be,