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One man,…… one man alone stalks the night. Away from ammonic terraces and hallways Away from monotonous gestures of people that once knew the clouds Faltered and unseen this man walks through streets known and never seen the rain caresses his face, trembling along his jaw line but failing to replace his tears. Following the yellow painted lines to the long lost graveyards of the unknown he finds himself longing for that simple caress of the water to be replaced with her hand. The mother, sister, lover that he left to cry in her simple corner of solemn Willows kiss his brow while he lingers silently into his cookie crisp suburban legends to remember the dead. Soon finding himself waltzing in the local graveyard, midnight long forgotten and the rising sun as good as a myth. To waltz among the living is the only solace to be found in the glory of his death, the remnance of love’s memories are far but forgotten. Yet bodies stolen by stone pallets distill the meaning, but at the same amplify the roses left for the memories. To lie and follow the dead is his only chance for freedom, his only solace for pain. As quick as the tides turn the sun rose without warning, showing the waking world this man of old. this man who was forgotten and will soon fade as surely as our waking dreams.
He was laid stricken with his back to the post of nocturnal lament to weep in his solemn content, was the only warmth our brow has tasted for such a length that we held on to those tears for fear that if they were lost, so would our humanity. We crawl amongst those mountains searching for something that we once knew, warmth guides us, our eyes useless and all senses numbed by pain. We only have our hearts and a dull sense of touch to guide us. crawling against the cold raptures of our caves and ravines feeling our way through, desperately seeking the warmth we once knew. We brave to climb to the top of the ravine to face the night, tossing and turning up to the top holding the trees for our support we brave to open the eyes that we hold sacred, and time after time find the darkness we’ve been thrust into. With the ravine at the toe of our disposal, time after time were faced with a choice …. hope or freedom from the struggle. Hope and passion pass us back around for the search, only in the end to find ourselves wanting. Passing through the hunt aimlessly we move through this. When all hope was lost and warmth forgotten, atop our mountain of solace we had forgotten the day. In the distance there was a shrill cry. All we could do is turn our heads to blindly hear this rapture through the night. Fear struck through us as we knew not how to understand this thing that’s sounds evoke a sense of redemption. To run and hide from this foreign song was what our primal fears set us to do. No matter where we turned, weaved, swayed, or ran this song followed us. Through the deepest ravines we ran, crawled through marshes of sulfur, and weaved through the tallest forests till we were in a place that we’ve never ventured. But still this song followed us. Every day this song grew louder, seemed closer and became more familiar, yet still it evoked an amazing sense of fear, because what it meant we knew not. In the darkest night, the rapture grew to a power to immense for us to handle, we were faced with a choice, to embrace this fear and find what this new song was, or to climb the ravine and pray for salvation. Desperately we climbed rocks turning to rubble behind us making escape certain death in the depth of the night, upward to the heavens were our aim, and in the depth of this black night we met our gentle mountain top. Exhausted and close to collapsing we laid in the grass. And prayed for salvation, all the fears and thoughts at that moment went from the depths of our hearts and into the black skies before us. Hours in as we finished our prayers we realized the song had ended, and opened our eyes to find where this one who made the rapture had gone, one call to the east grabbed our focus. Then suddenly, swiftly, softly……. As if a child that never seen a rose, we began to notice something long forgotten. The clouds were beginning to pass, and in their absence was color… the most amazing break of nights reign broke on our brow as the rain washing the flood gates clean. Light shimmered across the mountain tops and into the sky as we have never seen before and we can begin to heal from the wounds we have inflicted on ourselves. Our hearts can be warm and our eyes can learn to trust, soon our hands will be able to hold our hearts on our sleeves. As we lay our eyes to graze on the beauty we have stumbled upon, to the east a call of rapturous song comes to be audible, and we now can embrace this song….. and to where the call came one hawk flies over the horizon, cries and passes…… We weren’t being followed. We were being led by this gentle friend that has come to help us find warmth, trust, and beauty. The storms have ceased, they will come again but then we will be stronger, and we know not to run, but to face the rapture with open arms.
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