Deaf and Forgotten

Do you hear it? the forever. there are things that are true and there are those things which are false. Watch them, the waves of song, the voice ,that ethereal sound. the screaming inside. the fire. the soul breaking shatter. It grips you and shakes your soul. Pleading.

Do you hear it? the yearning. there are things which remain unspoken and there are things which are and will forever be broken. Watch them, the traces of light, the glance which steals it path through and throughout the unfortunate dreamers. gone are the dreams, frozen. the time stopping fear of being lost. Lost in waiting to be heard.

Can you hear anything anymore? how can one choose to be deaf to it? I know how, and I forgot how to listen. Do you care anymore?

 

Whether I care is irrelevant. I have listened, I have heard and I have spoken. The Forgotten are the Lonely. Remember that.

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Storms

 

“Tell me more about the impending storm, it will rage, I feel it, yet I can not explain its nature.”

She sat back, her gaze fixed out the large windows in the center room. They focused on the darkness looming in the near distance. She sighed and began again.

“What is it about storms? They bring signs and bring warning, yet once they are upon us, they leave nothing. They batter and deplete their surroundings, leaving only the strongest to stand. The rest to recover and grow once more with time”

I simply couldn’t come up with something appropriate to answer. So I sat silent. Watching. Listening.

“Do you see? Tell me you see! Tell me you understand the nature. Tell me you know of the strength it takes to withstand a storm. I know you can see it, do you know it, can you feel it?”

With this she sat and gazed sadly out the window. I gazed sadly out the window. In silence I turned to her mirrored reflection and simply watched, waiting for the thoughts and swell to pass… I wanted so much to answer, but I knew she would know.

I was feeling for the answers, reaching for the courage to face my other… I was grasping for something. Anything. And then I began,

“The storm is upon us now, it shall pass. I know not how long it will last, I know only of the warnings and signs of which you speak. I know only of the hallowed reflection I gaze upon in that mirror… and as storms pass, so do the reflections of moments which matter. I see you now… but do I?”

I stopped. As I stood there, looking in the direction of my outstretched arm. I saw it, once more. I saw it for what it had become. What it was going to be. I saw its nature.

Would I let it be? That is the question. That is the reality.

“… through the window you see me, you see what I do not. You see the storm, feel the power, feel the meaning… and know… yet what I feel is so much greater. It burns in my hallowed chest. It rings in my detached thoughts. The truth. I see its nature. Yet to see is not enough. To feel is not enough. It is in understanding that we truly can be…”

“Truly can be what?”

Her voice rang clearly in the silence of my mind. Her eyes were haunting my thoughts. Her gaze penetrating.

“You know.”

I simply watched  the seconds passed as she reflected, the minutes as she mused and then she knew. A faint smile graced her beautiful face. I felt better. So then did she.

“Yes… I suppose I do…”

With that she turned back to her window in the center room. The rain had begun.