 |
Irreconcilable
Irreconcilable  "Stop that woman! She has stollen my necklace! Take her away from this lands!"
I do not know who thought her, but never in my life have I seen a woman with no airs. I was a perfect statue, pale as death to whom ever rogues outrageously to take the power of my jewel, every trus is stollen.
"Stop!" There are many things in this world which posses the same property. Not my necklace, it belongs to me as I pass the portals to guide me and the values for others. Its of mine to have it to return as to what degree is there to love, as to intend to take it impulsively without my permission. It felt as a rape, bringing a woman so close knowing my state, my fragile endurance and audacious enterprise to simply trust once again in another.
They both trusted it could happen, it would simply slip in some pointed little word aimed to get payed for what he was born and raise to be. A King. My Hamlet.
One could easily cite various ancient authors to depict the same meaning, or myths who surround the same story wholly forgetting whom am I to be, or not to be with a timid assumption holding my contained heart by the judgment. Dragged to both emispheres of the heart bit to pulse again as one.
The antidote of ghosting, what else but setting one self apart if sometimes the respond of being not really a part, but having a stollen part from what you gave is not trully yours.
'Take her away with you if you must!" The necklace is my possession, held in, tap it inside the cavity betwen my bones as it hungs remarking my long intuitive neck. Its the dead soul of intention to carry on and host to thoroughly confuse no other, never confuse myself either from the betrayal, so that, in spite of standing for a long time in the one and the same hill, winking with my both eyes and grasping my chin with my handkerchief by the conmotion that awaits in the pit fall if I step further. And is not me the death this woman wishes from me, this envious thief.
Could feel the immortal fire rising from my heart, the numerous nights I tried for Hamlet to see how much my wrist needed to hold him, hungry on his direction as a vagabond searching for his ears to resound with what I've seen for him, if love the is answear. The misery succeeded darkness, my witnessing prevented me to step back, the beauty of the helpers raised me and heals me every day, at least grant me space without hidding in the corners of the cities with the forest wide awake to shelter away. They grant me gratitude as I steped back from the precipice from that woman who has pushed for my death, making others wan't my necklace to push me as well. The damage being made can't reverse with every stollen part. The remuneration follows the good providence.
If he wanted to run off with her, then why get dead souls in order to have them reborn or as to serve? Was there in the afterlife and could see them surrounding me as well with the ladies words. Placed my palms side to side blowing the air in them as it moved into my forehead, murmurs, spells, chants, prayers, blowing the air again in my forehead to foresee, and cursing the way in which the world is arranged nowadays, and the new presented before my head "May the Devil fly away with this spirits and offer its generosity" I was the petitioner as the long strands of my hair devoted patiently in brushing it self for long hours, held the air in the cup of my hands blowing once more appointing a commission. "I've survive, now pass greater rascals than ever, make me beautiful and suitable to a pure blood gentleman who represents me day and night and posses a delicate discretion in the matter of discerning."
Hamlet's words remain as hammered nails holding a wooden wall preventing me to be. "I did loved you" He said with mixed messages. "I love you not" always insecure going around his dirty compromises to please himself as "to be or not to be." He took me by the wrist and held me very hard leaving a restrictive pain forever before my hands. It was on his intend to defend me from his royal mess, stop me from being honoured as his wife. And could see the ghost of his father evading him from reality for the vengeance on his murder running through his blood.  Holding flowers, venerating in nature to let go from the impossible.
Those days, to what use could dead souls be applied? Each living come with the sickness of their ancestors and what source of a state could govern before one could turn round, scandals were set afloat? Why, why would some know before the happenings, to crept out before their bodies. How could I know. Is it love who guides me, it's the only former thing I have to hold this pendant.
Pictures emerged in my mind, vivid, vital, fill alive surrounded by orderly housewives expending speedily a definite aspect clothed in visual forms and patterns how clear, their husbands enamoured by how they host the parties for a long time, and the meetings each treaty posses. The moonlight, the tittling lights bellow, the well conversed details they all achieved to form. Who was suffering from hopeless love? No one, the most touching are the conscience within their souls to do good, for even the devil will transform and launch you gates to belong, free, rich and successful so God pays him attention. This is the last time, two contradictory ideas, the masculine and the feminine. Abducted and beloved, how could this lived together, what paradox would rotten inside the belly for another's death constantly, wishing death to another is auto-killing oneself unconsciously, that can't exist next to me. Its irreconcilable to believe a person would think to be better by this actions. I'm not suitable to express any desire as to integrate a ghost who is not responding to let go into the perfectly ridiculous attention to the dead souls, the death wishes death if is not pulling alive, is equivalent to lethal death and an inner attack who will devour anyone as itself with no meaning, nor value. Said more tranquil. "Take her away from me, this is my necklace to crossover and open portals, close them back too."
Each person and entity is free to walk it's own path as one protects its powers from those who are perfectly away the real intentions. Not half the way, non at all I'm a total being, honest and attracted to the fine arts in the nature of light such blooming rumours can only be contagious to cheer up, to scream excitements of individual friendships, by the everlasting opulence of rightful powers. If there is love to be, walk me out to the ever ends to show the way to those who wish this happening to many others.
I'm content with my belongings and transformation, the passages of my destine, my hands free, empty from greed channelling infinite abundance. For everything I have, let go. I'm given. As my necklace was empowered for me, for those who need to be reached will be reached by someone who is welcoming, someone who simply is to channel, whom is the channel and conciliates good for good.
|
