Releasing the Thorn
May 6th 2009 21:26
This is my pristine chapel of sparkling white. It is pure where I tread as it is the temple created to invite the weary traveler and the raging hearts alike.
A soul who is bound by an ethic that encourages self pity and harsh cruelty at once is one shackled to a stone wall of miserable confounded and tumultuous fury.
A storm brews therein, pleading to release its torrent, but always holding back the deluge just long enough to be certain that a trespass has been carried out.
For one who is entirely outwardly cocksure whilst clandestinely capable of intense apprehension, a bit of self reflection is required.
Under a flimsy guise of certitude, the seams become creases become cracks become canyons become caverns of thick limestone that blot out the morning star and allow creeping darkness to distort robes that sparkled in the clear light of day.
If I were a painter I'd use the walls of that cave as a canvass, and concoct a landscape that would portray a field of sunflowers. The yellow blooms setting the field ablaze with resplendent beauty that could match even your perceived pulchritude.
Cimmerian shade is skulking, slinking, slithering, sneaking into this place. To keep it uncorrupted, I must purge the creeping mist and absolve you of your debts. Not to me, mind. Your debts are owed to the guild. I cannot unburden you of this millstone. But on their behalf, I can release you from blame, and perhaps free my own albatross at long last.
The encumbrance with which I have been saddled will be lifted from these tired shoulders, and perhaps your feeble hands will begin to adhere to the code that was set forth in times long past.
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