Thursday, July 27, 2006

an ode to the white shadow
This is what I wrote as a gift for my mother`s birthday.

Lost , always searching for something worth the time to spend effortlessly.
I seem to be dreaming of something else instead of what I truly wanted.
Crossing the rooftops, aiming for the forbidden sky up above.
A sin of eternal chaotic proportions, a nuetral shade of darkness pushed away by the wary tide.
No longer in need of the problems that ensue in your heart, there is no denial.

The proper and inproper are recorded on the old tape, winding it is staggering.
Listening is easier, it doesn`t hurt as much when you break.
You listen to the sodden melody and the introspective message left behind by the shadows of society.
I seem to sit at the station watching the others cross and pass by my silloette.
I never notice the strange aroma in the air, or the sound of snow falling from a dingy sky.

I feel remorse for no aparent reason, I am not able to recall happiness or sadness.
This station where trains rarely run, I seem to be quaint watching the snow fall.
Neither myself nor the others feel the cold, or the bistering pain of memories.
Because here at this station the sleepy warmth envelopes those who wait for their train to another destination unknown to mankind.

The melody of the old tape fades into the distance as one looks at the sky in wonder of when crystal tears will fall.
The train is far in the distance, heard straight at the station, affecting the solace of the atmosphere.
Destiny lies in the wake for its passengers, the movement across the city below the platform slows unaware of time slowly chilling the souls of it`s contenders.

I stand at the edge of the platform staring straight below into the illusions of a peaceful snowy world.
Only a moment to catch the crisp air, then to let go of it in a sigh of disappointment..
I step into the rails and wait for an unknown feeling, as the sky greets this newly found bittersweet fear of mine I can`t hold back..
I laugh as a bitter smile twitches at my lips,
then I turn and flee from this new found presence.

The world switches skins as the sun fades from the east and rises in the west hidden by the cloudy facade.
Two found beneath the forbidden sky ,the rain acts as tears signing the faces of the occupants of light.
The grip of tight insistance that of steel upon the doorknob, time never even threw a prayer in my direction. A lost soul leans against the heavy frozen doors for support.
I called out to you so many numerous times, that I cannot remember when I did not do so.

The suffering is quiet as the murmur of the city at dawn, but in this harsh reality one can runaway with the earth fading beneath their feet and dive into the forbidden sky.
A treat to the heart, music to the soul, the drifting to paradise unseen.
Your sonnet echoes on the surface of the moon, spilling into the night sky.
But wishes seldom come true, and at this pace the cities in the suffocating snowy silence have not yet found warmth.
I still look on when the day when the sound of snow falling will be in the distance, as the scenery outside the shaded windows turns into a vibrant world and the train speeds down the tracks toward a preordained destiny.

But, here the trains seldom run and the snowy world of silence seems sleepy from afar, the platform glistens and brightens the station.
The town below is a fridiged mystery, there always seems to be snow falling from the sky so misery is at no end.
May the occupants of our cities find solace in the arms of their lovers and the grissly cold be kept at bay for a few hours of warmth.

The days are like the nights in this place, darkened slightly by the shadow of the cloudy sky.
Running down the cobbled streets in search of something more than this city could offer one may get lost in the white of the shade.
I have lost the pathway to the end of the line, alone again as a passerby in the morbid shops and a deviant to the red light district in a icy gaze.
This city is a memory within itself, the shops, the occupants, the station all a apart of the darker side of our lives. The ice and snow are a colombine of the forces in our sins that are reflected as the blood upon the mirror.

Can existence in this remorseful place be as truly frigid as those who choose to lose themselves in a perfect mirage?
In point, this frigid wasteland a city of snow ice and regrets is the only truth among a sea of lies.
The trek through the snow to the outskirts runs through age old mementos of the past, the existence has suffered.
The city built upon the bodies of our long dead, built upon the sins of the previous era.
Stepping through the outer gates to the choas outside in the black forests will taint any innocent.
Sadly not even to children of this forgotten city are pure.
All have succumb to the sadness within themselves, the private stuggles to survive the terrain and ourselves are outlined by frozen tears among the graves of the brave from the last generation.
These stuggles forged by the frozen flame have no shame in thier elipses.

A feeling of lost grace blows by in the helpless wind, just as the frosty thoughts wisk by in dark.
Technology is beyond us, a city lost in the shadow of the past.
We seem to have misplaced the door to evolution.
The past is all round the city, what are the secrets lying beneath the snow?

The samurai have rested their swords, the muslims have dropped their bombs and praised allah.
The last allied battalion have lost their guns and fallen to their knees in horror of the terror before thier unshielded eyes.
The weary prophets have sat to rest their feet from the eternal trek through the sands to the promised land.

All of these reminders are screaming for us not to forget their pain, their tears, their struggles.
The world makes no sense as I white shadow covers the earth to silence our cries.
We diminish in it`s presence.




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