Post by kuraikiba on Sept 12, 2010 15:39:17 GMT
This isn't so much a story, as it is a poem.
Unwept but Unshattered
As I walked through the still, goldenrod meadow I stop, suddenly, and breathe deeply through my nose. I sigh, and look back, but I figure it's no use turning back. I continue onwards, the heavens dark, the moon ethereal, as painful as each step seems, I be not deterred.
In tattered rags I be, though not as tattered as what lieth beneath them, with the gloves on my hands showing wounds of a battle of this plane, covering ones of a plane darker.
As the wind whistles it's endless melody, I lament that it not be what soothe me and will not. The claws feel tighter, as I wade through unkempt, auburn grass, and I gnasheth my teeth in pain, as the rejected cold stones be beneath my torn feet, torn by my path taken which I hath, and I slowly get to the battered and burned doors of the chapel, though it reminds me so painfully of the doors I never should have opened. I drew mine breath, and slowly exhaled as I went to the altar, more lost and desolate than mine own soul. By a candle, of life flickering and fading, and light piercing, I knelt at the altar. I looked to the candle, and thought to myself how in vain it had been, how it waneth in it's place of wone, and how my own self, my own life, was just that same status quo as the candle. I turned my head to the altar and closed mine eyes. As I knelt before the altar, I asked God himself, why, in a realm of saints and angels in Inferno, and demons and sinners in Paradise, why I must be shackled to these chains of pain, iron, and misery, the very chains that kill my soul and maketh my wrists and hands bleed. I received no answer I wanted, but rather one I wouldn't appreciate for much time: "In your hours of last, the final days of thy existence, know I will make it right, as I always have. But wait in silence and in prayer, for continence is the key to heaven, as purity is the gate." Overcome by consternation and despondence, I swung mine hand in rage. As I thought of nothing with value, as everything was a chasing of the wind, a far crueler being decided to free me in his own way. I saw the candle, one I viewed in so nihilistic a way, it returned the favor, and roared and blazed. As it's dark fires consumed my surroundings, and as glass shrieked and shattered, I found myself surrounding by chains and lashings of hellfire, and glass shredding the very air around mine being, as they razed me and my very soul with cruel razoring cuts, as they surround me and violently orbit, bathed and baptized in hellfire and darkness, I felt that nothing mattered about what was, and that was going to be the day I saw the Valley of Shadow before me, cruelly judging my worth as I did, and I screamed out, as glass and fire roared in a wheel of darkness around me, at mine highest call: "I will do anything to be free, for freedom for life is to absolve me of mine chains and thorns!" As I uttered this last word, glass was shredding me like never before, a bloodletter of dark, and the floor went into ruination, as I pleaded, "Marana Tha!", hoping I could see light and the trees once more on Terra Firma. As the floor collapsed and sunk into the depths of Abythhia, I felt the strongest force I'd ever seen yank me, and save me. I knoweth not what it was, may be angel, may be God, may be Michael the Archangel. All I knew, was that I awoke to a truly terrifying sight. I saw a pillar of Hell's very Inferno, armored in plumes of darkness and flame, and I saw the chapel sink into the center, the cruel and icy center, of Hell, where Lucifer wone, and saw it no more. I needed no message or vision from God, but when my eyes turned into seas of blood, when I walking on the shores of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, when I saw truly what death was like, I turned, and went on my travels, saved by the grace of God, but more importantly, by letting go of mine own shallow fears, mine own depredation of mine own heart, when I stopped living thinking nothing was worth fighting for, but everything was worth dying for, that's when I became the tools of my salvation, My faith doth be mine aegis, My severing of my self-directed antipathy doth be mine blade, My God doth be mine hands, and My aggregation of mine dusk and dawn doth be mine boon of light to guide mine path. I entered one life and lost it, but I finished mine convalescence and, no longer wizened by mine ruination of time past, went on my way, unwept but unshattered.
Unwept but Unshattered
As I walked through the still, goldenrod meadow I stop, suddenly, and breathe deeply through my nose. I sigh, and look back, but I figure it's no use turning back. I continue onwards, the heavens dark, the moon ethereal, as painful as each step seems, I be not deterred.
In tattered rags I be, though not as tattered as what lieth beneath them, with the gloves on my hands showing wounds of a battle of this plane, covering ones of a plane darker.
As the wind whistles it's endless melody, I lament that it not be what soothe me and will not. The claws feel tighter, as I wade through unkempt, auburn grass, and I gnasheth my teeth in pain, as the rejected cold stones be beneath my torn feet, torn by my path taken which I hath, and I slowly get to the battered and burned doors of the chapel, though it reminds me so painfully of the doors I never should have opened. I drew mine breath, and slowly exhaled as I went to the altar, more lost and desolate than mine own soul. By a candle, of life flickering and fading, and light piercing, I knelt at the altar. I looked to the candle, and thought to myself how in vain it had been, how it waneth in it's place of wone, and how my own self, my own life, was just that same status quo as the candle. I turned my head to the altar and closed mine eyes. As I knelt before the altar, I asked God himself, why, in a realm of saints and angels in Inferno, and demons and sinners in Paradise, why I must be shackled to these chains of pain, iron, and misery, the very chains that kill my soul and maketh my wrists and hands bleed. I received no answer I wanted, but rather one I wouldn't appreciate for much time: "In your hours of last, the final days of thy existence, know I will make it right, as I always have. But wait in silence and in prayer, for continence is the key to heaven, as purity is the gate." Overcome by consternation and despondence, I swung mine hand in rage. As I thought of nothing with value, as everything was a chasing of the wind, a far crueler being decided to free me in his own way. I saw the candle, one I viewed in so nihilistic a way, it returned the favor, and roared and blazed. As it's dark fires consumed my surroundings, and as glass shrieked and shattered, I found myself surrounding by chains and lashings of hellfire, and glass shredding the very air around mine being, as they razed me and my very soul with cruel razoring cuts, as they surround me and violently orbit, bathed and baptized in hellfire and darkness, I felt that nothing mattered about what was, and that was going to be the day I saw the Valley of Shadow before me, cruelly judging my worth as I did, and I screamed out, as glass and fire roared in a wheel of darkness around me, at mine highest call: "I will do anything to be free, for freedom for life is to absolve me of mine chains and thorns!" As I uttered this last word, glass was shredding me like never before, a bloodletter of dark, and the floor went into ruination, as I pleaded, "Marana Tha!", hoping I could see light and the trees once more on Terra Firma. As the floor collapsed and sunk into the depths of Abythhia, I felt the strongest force I'd ever seen yank me, and save me. I knoweth not what it was, may be angel, may be God, may be Michael the Archangel. All I knew, was that I awoke to a truly terrifying sight. I saw a pillar of Hell's very Inferno, armored in plumes of darkness and flame, and I saw the chapel sink into the center, the cruel and icy center, of Hell, where Lucifer wone, and saw it no more. I needed no message or vision from God, but when my eyes turned into seas of blood, when I walking on the shores of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, when I saw truly what death was like, I turned, and went on my travels, saved by the grace of God, but more importantly, by letting go of mine own shallow fears, mine own depredation of mine own heart, when I stopped living thinking nothing was worth fighting for, but everything was worth dying for, that's when I became the tools of my salvation, My faith doth be mine aegis, My severing of my self-directed antipathy doth be mine blade, My God doth be mine hands, and My aggregation of mine dusk and dawn doth be mine boon of light to guide mine path. I entered one life and lost it, but I finished mine convalescence and, no longer wizened by mine ruination of time past, went on my way, unwept but unshattered.
