| the Book Unopened: rite of passage |
| If ever I forced myself on you, now dearly those
actions are regretted as unnecessary.
For you were Kindred, as far as it Seemed. There was no need to fear what unknown lay beyond our experience or comprehension. We were frail and yet not fully formed. Seeking the penultimate but unwilling to puchase this with our tattered shreds of elegiac innocence. It was our irrevocable, enervate trauma, our initial brush with a cynosure far more potent than any other previous, canescent encounters. A destined path: it was our early death. Roaming the verdant belt swathed recuperating, reminded of cheerfulness that had escaped us in a dystopic fit of stark realism. Morose, somnolent in its own pool of blood: we could not capture the bravura of what sprawled outside the unbreachable gates. Irretrievable since it was denied to us by our captors. Shying away from the harsh light of inquisition and fascinare’ misplaced, fearfully we drew away from their unwavering glare. What held us back from cursing the day we recall being Borne. This kept us yet a trifling distance from the onslaught of Fate. This unrequited love maintained the warmth and comfort soon to be dissolved, consumed by undeserved hate. Calm now the seas of Despair, a gentle unassuming creature you have beckoned nearer. The light you bore enough to blind me into unflinching subservience. You I made my only eidolon in a sphere of former influence disintegrated
I remained untaught of the fiendish Legion. Reaching for the tower I found
you ensconced and unfeeling. That Luna lay undisturbed in her chamber
was of no consequence, insensate - a cowl of dread approach had settled
... Sought I to sacrifice her to you ! Despair and unnatural longing to
appease the savage transfusions of my poor heart - it would not be
silent.
|
| 97 mar 6
(c) copyright owned by Siddharta Somar |
| | back to the book unopened |