...and the rains came. All was lost in shadows. The holes filled with heavenly tears. The rocks would not embrace. All is gray and lost to the winds. It is time to sit and turn within. Fertilize my inkwells with inspiration from afar...
As the cleansing clouds crawl across the sky, I drift with them. I feel weightless and allow my mind to go free. It dives deep in the gray inkwell of yesterdays. The mental quill begins its sacred dance upon the dance floor parchment:
Is my lady singing at the hillside chateau this evening? How many has she enchanted? All that have sat in the dim, smoke filled structure. How could they not be? In a world torn by words and cultures divided by misunderstands, some think only war will prove one side victorious. They are wrong. War destroys the very essence of humanity that it claims to honor. The madness and volume of war has near deafened me. Will I ever find peace? Only here in her presence, ensconced in her voice, held in her heart, and lost in her eyes.
There are times that I wonder if I have died. Is this heaven? Valhalla? Is she an angel? My Valkyrie? I do not know. I do know that she in my Muse. That is all that matters. If this is death, eternity will be embraced. Immortality in a world of mental and spiritual inspiration flow through the soft lips and gentle words of a lovely shadow that sings and sways upon a perfect moment in the midst of chaos? A hovering above the world of madness on a magic carpet of genius? Attended by such an elegant spirit? In chaos, I have been offered serenity. I accept this as I fall away from fate.
©March 9, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic