The minute the stone was thrown a change in the flow created a chain reaction unto a world that became devastated into a fury of regret. The pain that grew deep within his veins and became a turning point for she was no longer slayed. One moment,one ripple, one slip became her last as she drowned into the depths of anguish. Her tormented soul was forsaken, for even god turned away during this lapse of time as if the darkness embraced what was left to save. Love is a stone thrown into the flow that can create ripples that forge the pain within ones veins. The beast lays silent and as god opened up his eye for the universe cried in pain as her heart became the last stone thrown into an empty pit of shame.
She weaved a web with her tattered worn clothes, she walked away from the strands that clung unto her woven frayed box. Splinters interlaced her web and punctured more of her garments that tattered onto her horrid webbed wooden box. An unsightly box stood there wrapped around the web underneath the rusty nails that she laid her pretty little head. Fragile, volatile, soft and so used, how could the web entangle her into this web she already once knew. Locked in a box was her indentured servitude as the box was filled with rusty nails and something that couldn’t be true. The box laid cold, musty and diseased with lies for one who dared to venture through the darken box would only come to their own putrid demise. For he could undertake this perilous webbed path as he peered with his helpless eyes. How the web had entangled him into the box barely scraping his fearless hands, gripping the splinters and rusted nails as he clutched onto her strands that she carelessly left behind. There they both rest now under the wooden tattered entangled box. Her indentured servitude remained as she weaved a web with her tattered worn clothes and now the splinters punctured his sad little demise.
An audacious anarchist once stood before those who queried the factualism of their foresight that they all never knew. He clutched his saber so seditiously from his tattered sheath and plunged it deep within his cogitation so that others would see the malcontent depths that engulfs their ways. The perils that laid at bay for he laughed them all away, for all those who stood listened with such intent that his consciousness awakened those that saw the perils that were hidden in plain sight. Those were no longer led by the pack of wolves that left a corpuscles stench. The sheep they once were, now they were real men. An audacious anarchist once stood before the wolves and sheep and all the men stood so full of spirit as the audacious anarchist could finally see a purlieu before them that the foresight never allowed them to see. Now they clutch their sabers and plunge it deep within their own anarchist souls; so now the audacious anarchist could slumber and awaken to find the wolves hidden within the darkness of the trees. The land now belonged to all the men as they will never be the irrational sheep.
Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moon light? The subject of good and evil, yin versus yang. We seek a balance within ourselves. Some seeking familiar shelter, some runaway to only have the clouds follow behind and some dance with the devil. The devil numbs their pain and makes them crave an imbalance of their soul. Speak figuratively of the devil as it portrays addiction. Some addictions can be a functioning balance the individual creates and others transform themselves where the addiction becomes them. Watching the devil dance around people you love created an imbalance within myself. She allowed the imbalance, She allowed this darkness because all she wanted was for them to see the light. Love, hate and anger wasn’t enough, it only engulfed her with more sadness and rage. Learning to let go and not blame. Learning to love regardless of all of the shame. Balance is your interpretation of what you deem fit. We all dance with the devil sometimes and maybe the balance is the beautiful pale moon light.
“Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance