Sharp embers

How many days and how many nights have we waited? Harsh and cold winter knights. Their silver swords can never tell us the stories we want to hear. Memories fade slowly, as dragons burn the world away. We are forever as slaves to fate.

When you listen to the sound of something important disappearing from your life forever, do you see the black window there and hear the thunder outside. The boy, he screams and he will fall. Tell me, what is life worth when everything else has gone?

I prayed to the gods, the cruel gods. Hear us, take us away to a secret place, where the sharp embers of this world cannot touch us. They laughed, we hope, desire and wait. It is all a game to you. Have we paid the price for all our sins, or is there still something left!

One night in Paris

She was walking down the narrow, old streets in the rain. The cobbled ways were grey and uneven, the houses looked weary and sorrowful. The door-knockers had not been used in a long, long time. The town was falling into despair. She stopped under a flickering streetlight, and looked up at the cold skies. The rains were relentless, and they would not stop for her.

She walked on, through the sad, old alleys. And saw a light at the end of it. A small carriage, innocent looking and ordinary, with two weary ponies and a small light in front of it. It beckoned to her. The master asked her to get in, out of the rain, and it would take her anywhere. There were many other carriages further down the street, she would take them. But he persisted. He followed her and insisted that she must take his carriage. And so weary, she did.

The carriage took her away, far into the night. It flew through the skies and above the rain. The horses were unicorns in spun silver, she had not noticed before. The master was a leprechaun, and her carriage was breaking into a dream. The world came alive, transformed by some magic. She was walking through a garden path, with artists and sculptors weaving beautiful visions around her. It made her smile, she had never known of this world before. And he sat at the end of the path, waiting.

In his arms, she stayed that night. In the midnight light of the stars, in the most beautiful moments in the world. A time that was perfect as a dewdrop, that could not be touched. His touch was like a kiss in spring. He was an angel, come from another world, to be with her. She was happy with him, her feelings beyond anything she had ever known. Looking into his eyes, he beguiled her and they danced forever. Nothing could hurt her there.

Until the morning came and took him away. No carriage waited for her, to take her home. She fell from the skies. The world was still grey. The rains were colder and more cruel than the night before. They covered her tears. She could not find the master, the horses or the streets anymore. Lost, in an unknown world, she stumbled and fell. She looked for him, but he was just a dream, gone forever.

Shadows

The old woman told a story. About a young girl on a beautiful white horse. She danced on her heels, flowers in her hair and her hands. Dreamed of far-fought wars and glimmering swords. Of forts climbed and pebbles in the sand.

And the monsters walked into their gardens. They were scaled and green, wearing masks of fear. Shadowed cloaks trailed them. They tread in uncertainty. Wolves howled in sorrow and rains lashed at them. They were large and grey, and they crushed everything in sight. Their eyes pierced death into the victims. Killed their hopes, ravaged their minds. Left them crying, their souls in distress.

And the monsters served her in her head. She tried to slay them, but she could not. She tried not to fall to them, but she would not. She tried not to lose her mind, but she had to. The hallowed gods looked upon her no more. The flowers in her hair wilted away.

And the nightmares came calling in their dreams.

Lost

What's the worst thing that could ever happen to you? A terminal illness, a life without hope, a wasted passion? Your beliefs destroyed, your character in pieces? Or death? Let's start from there.

Where do you run to, when you are lost?
Who do you turn to, when you have no one?
Is there a way out for the damned?
Is fear the only truth, hidden after the sun?

Is there a dance that no one watches?
Why do angels kiss, if they sing and pray?
Tears do not buy you life or reverence;
A promise, a river, a lie they all said.

Tell me, silence me, then tell me the truth,
The water runs quick, shimmering and blue;
Nightingales talked of love and killed with arrows,    
Circles of fate, and so many fools.
                               
I'm lost and so are you. I don't know what to do and neither do you. Life is a cruel master and its puppets are bound. They are dancing; drinking in fairytales. Slaves to fate, and to circles of fate. Why do we learn? Why do we yearn? Just to fall as prey.