I have no illusions. It all vanishes in a blink.
It disappears faster than snowflakes entrusted in the care of sun.
Life as a collection of misconceptions on the way to the end.
Moments of ecstasy, moments of terror all mixed up like photos thrown out carelessly on the street after someone emptied a house.
Moments. What entire lifetimes consist of.
Precious, meaningless, countless, finite moments.
The sword of my speech is dulled by age and disappointment.
It can no longer reflect my face.
Perhaps the face it reflects is not my own.
Perhaps I do not recognise my own face.
Perhaps I am nothing I can recognise or associate to anymore.
The sword of my soul is dulled by grief and inconsistency.
The sword of my soul is dulled by battles I cannot win and I myself have chosen.
There is no sword, and no soul, and no battles.
Open your eyes.
"Some are born in endless night."
It's the dark night of the soul.
Only dawn can follow.
I have seen the face of my enemy.
I have to be careful. If I slip now, it has all been for nothing.
She said he can change or postpone some things but not everything.
She said there are things he cannot postpone or change.
And that's true.
As for what those things are -if they ever happen- it's something that will once more end in tears, grief and heart break.
He wouldn't want to change or postpone that, would he now?
Going aroung in circles as a small-hours-of-the-night-specialty for the writer.
I wish, oh how I wish I had a smidgen of my past understanding.
A moment of time at your side.
But I cannot stop now.
I cannot rest.
And I am so unbelievably tired that my soul itself feels replaced by ashes.
Life, of course, goes on, and I am still consumed by meaningless chores and meaningless conversations.
I wish I could still my heart.
I wish I could put my heart to rest.
But the hunt is on, and the great beast beats his wings once and soars high.
He cannot be stopped.
Run, hide, do what you want.
In this lifetime it ends, even if I have to go down with you.
It will be worth it.