Joronas Temnra

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2005-09-14 00:17:32 (UTC)


Classes.. School. Learning.

They started on the 8th.. it's now the 13th.

They started the 8th of June, 1983.. they started the 8th of
September, 2005.. I don't even know why the number is
haunting me.

The wind is speaking, but I can't hear it. Fire whispers,
but doesn't call my name. Life goes on, and I go on, but I
can't feel the ties.


I wish I could stand in the night and scream. I wish I could
throw open the gates and let it all out. Joy and pain, rage
and celebration. Just scream until the howling inside me ceases.

I belonged to the fire once. I belonged to the wind, to the
wood. To the river. Then I gave my heart away, and little by

Is there nothing left that calls to me?

Do I have to stand at the void with nothing behind me and
nothing before me and take that last, blind leap of faith?
Must I go to the last edge, having nothing, and take that
desperate chance?

Patterns within patterns. Have I stood at the void, time and
again, only to turn my back on it? Am I supposed to jump? Or
have I jumped, time and again, when I should turn my back
upon it?


I hear a song, and I see a face in the shadow.

iI walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever
known. /i

I see shadows. I see the new moon.

iDon't know where it goes but it's only me and I walk
alone. /i

I see the dark streetlights. I see the perfect houses. I see
the closed curtains against the night.

iI walk this empty street on the Boulevard of Broken
Dreams where the city sleeps and I'm the only one I walk
alone. I walk alone I walk alone. /i

I see the void. I see the emptiness. I see darkness and
swirling deeper darkness.

i My shadow is the only one that walks beside me. My
shallow heart's the only thing that's beating. Sometimes I
wish someone out there will find me. Till then I walk alone/i

I see the weariness, I see an endless, empty street in a
perfect neighbourhood.


I see it all. So clearly that I want to paint it with
words.. because that is the character of something I started
writing.. but I can't.

The last person, standing alone... in my world, the last
guardian at the gate, who has stood at the gate so long that
he beholds himself and sees the enemy. That he beholds the
enemy and sees himself.


I'm hunted by something I can't see. I fight it off every
time, but there is no reason now. I fight because I have not
chosen not to. I fight because I cannot choose not to. But I
feel no reason to choose to.


I can coax a kitten who has never been held to my hand --
but I can't heal the damage to my soul. I can't put myself
back together. I'm torn in two, and I did it myself when I
resisted the weight of the living world. When I chose to
keep a promise I made. What would have happened if I'd

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