Ode to a Knightingale
Burnt embers
impregnated with silence
you walk.
You live and you breathe.
Your mind weaves a tale
one of delight speckled with sorrow.
You are content in your dream state.
You don't question its authenticity.
Because, in this,
lie all your desires, beliefs, do's and dont's.
All your musings
all your comforts.
Where is there room for doubt?
You walk with your eyes closed.
Ignoring the incessant protests of your other senses.
Your instinct.
A slow rhythmic lullaby..numbing all else.
How do you end this ?
More importantly, do you want to end this?
A song pierces through the lull.
The sound unbidden and uninvited.
A siren in the wee corners of your unconscious mind.
A knight or an assassin?
Your spirit entrenched in monotony,
The shroud slowly parts and lifts off your skull,
Bitten, stung by the fangs of truth.
The truth about yourself and others enshrouded in their empty cloaks.
In the secret of the night
A messenger of light.
Calls out your name until
the cognizance of reality is complete.
Discernment is awakened.
A burst of flame
the nightingale spontaneously combusts into a crisp.
While your transformation has been initiated,
to be a messenger in the night
To sprout wings and take flight.
To be an assassin and a knight.
-of pressure and transformations of the brave
I'm so proud of you.
ReplyDeleteLove your support ;)
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