Flynn
Lion Heart Diva
- Messages
- 18,264
- Location
- Far from yup!
ODE TO Vitriol
Vitriol. No. The blame lies with me. How were you ever supposed to know that the perennial flower you once knew grew razor sharp thorns that sometimes trickled blood from the heart? You couldn't have known. We have been strangers for soo long that even the mountains wouldn't have opened up--to let us pass to finally meet one another. You were correct in your memories. There was once a time when everything was green pastures with a hue of pink bubble gum cascading down the corners of my view. Those times are not lost, but perhaps put away like a good book encrusted with dust just waiting to be opened once more.
We all have our favorite memories, Vitriol. Whether it be a brush of soft lips that graze a blushed cheek on a Winter morning. The whisper of a kind voice that echoes into a very secluded chamber of a closed heart. Or perhaps, reading words that takes one back to a time when melancholy was only an ethereal thought in the loneliest of nights. Holding onto the memories that make us who we are is being human. Only outsiders of the unhuman factor could turn this mystical and mysterious dew dropping of a gift off. Keep those memories my dear Vitriol and you will never be truly alone.
To change is the way of every living being that has a heartbeat. Nothing, even the eternal beauty of a newborn soul stays the same and innocent. Time does cast its particular shadow over all of nature's grandest masterpieces. So to admit that the clock of destiny plays not a part in what we feel or think is for the unwise man that thinks he alone can stop what already has been in motion even before the deepest ocean was born. It's a fools errand.
I like your spoken word, "...the kinder gentler lens..." If looking out through a telescope seeped in hope, then how could you ever be not known as a helper and an enabler of good things? Living through a looking glass mired in one's own torrid ecstasy of physical and mental pain benefits no one. It unleashes the inner ghoul that finds a way to usurp the enlightened and positive strides already made by men who came before you. Change is not death. We die only when we cannot change for the greater good.
We are all creatures of folly, do not be soo hard on yourself. That is our nature as untamed beasts that roam, looking for the very sweet nectar of who and what we really are. A boisterous laugh perfectly aimed at one's self isn't something that will injure you my dear Vitriol. As you stated, it's a win. Only by knowing that there is victory, even in times of rampant thuggery by the theives of light makes you more insighful knowing that not all things end with a silent and an emaciated sigh.
Oh, Vitriol. I had forgiven you even before you thought and wrote and alluded to me being a shell of my former self. I had forgiven you before you were even conceived in your mother's safe warm womb. There was no infraction made and no healing needed. Like when the rain just falls, does the rain question why it's falling? Or does it just fall giving life to which it touches? Like the rain, we too fall in a frenzy of controlled splashes that cascade over those whose lives we've made anew. Keep your misty memories close to your beating heart. Hold on dearly to them. They are yours. That way they cannot ever be blown away by the purple winds of eternal change.
I am glad that you say to me, "Always be yourself." For, if I am not myself, then who am I? I am happy when you say, "whoever that may be." Because, being that which you remember gives me angelic joy. I rejoice and it has the scent of a warm Summer morning sitting patiently holding the hand of a serene lake.
Goodbye, Vitriol. Can you feel it too? Can you feel mother nature gently caressing all my fears away with her tendrils of grace and undying love that encapsulates me from myself?
Vitriol. No. The blame lies with me. How were you ever supposed to know that the perennial flower you once knew grew razor sharp thorns that sometimes trickled blood from the heart? You couldn't have known. We have been strangers for soo long that even the mountains wouldn't have opened up--to let us pass to finally meet one another. You were correct in your memories. There was once a time when everything was green pastures with a hue of pink bubble gum cascading down the corners of my view. Those times are not lost, but perhaps put away like a good book encrusted with dust just waiting to be opened once more.
We all have our favorite memories, Vitriol. Whether it be a brush of soft lips that graze a blushed cheek on a Winter morning. The whisper of a kind voice that echoes into a very secluded chamber of a closed heart. Or perhaps, reading words that takes one back to a time when melancholy was only an ethereal thought in the loneliest of nights. Holding onto the memories that make us who we are is being human. Only outsiders of the unhuman factor could turn this mystical and mysterious dew dropping of a gift off. Keep those memories my dear Vitriol and you will never be truly alone.
To change is the way of every living being that has a heartbeat. Nothing, even the eternal beauty of a newborn soul stays the same and innocent. Time does cast its particular shadow over all of nature's grandest masterpieces. So to admit that the clock of destiny plays not a part in what we feel or think is for the unwise man that thinks he alone can stop what already has been in motion even before the deepest ocean was born. It's a fools errand.
I like your spoken word, "...the kinder gentler lens..." If looking out through a telescope seeped in hope, then how could you ever be not known as a helper and an enabler of good things? Living through a looking glass mired in one's own torrid ecstasy of physical and mental pain benefits no one. It unleashes the inner ghoul that finds a way to usurp the enlightened and positive strides already made by men who came before you. Change is not death. We die only when we cannot change for the greater good.
We are all creatures of folly, do not be soo hard on yourself. That is our nature as untamed beasts that roam, looking for the very sweet nectar of who and what we really are. A boisterous laugh perfectly aimed at one's self isn't something that will injure you my dear Vitriol. As you stated, it's a win. Only by knowing that there is victory, even in times of rampant thuggery by the theives of light makes you more insighful knowing that not all things end with a silent and an emaciated sigh.
Oh, Vitriol. I had forgiven you even before you thought and wrote and alluded to me being a shell of my former self. I had forgiven you before you were even conceived in your mother's safe warm womb. There was no infraction made and no healing needed. Like when the rain just falls, does the rain question why it's falling? Or does it just fall giving life to which it touches? Like the rain, we too fall in a frenzy of controlled splashes that cascade over those whose lives we've made anew. Keep your misty memories close to your beating heart. Hold on dearly to them. They are yours. That way they cannot ever be blown away by the purple winds of eternal change.
I am glad that you say to me, "Always be yourself." For, if I am not myself, then who am I? I am happy when you say, "whoever that may be." Because, being that which you remember gives me angelic joy. I rejoice and it has the scent of a warm Summer morning sitting patiently holding the hand of a serene lake.
Goodbye, Vitriol. Can you feel it too? Can you feel mother nature gently caressing all my fears away with her tendrils of grace and undying love that encapsulates me from myself?
Last edited:
