Three ~ Dreary
My dear H-----,
It would be raining.
I have strength enough to keep the stuff from touching me, of course, but no longer can I shut it all back up in the heavens, where it should be of better use, perhaps wiping the simpering selfless smiles from Their faces.
But this rain... it dulls the sunlight which so often pains my darkened eyes, but it is without the clarity and fullness of night. Whether or not it actually touches this fragile flesh, it seems to have an adverse affect on the body - I find myself strangely without energy, sapped of will, even as many of the silly besotted creatures walking the water-laden streets. The state of their bodies so dictates the state of their souls to such a humourous degree! And then there are those who take a perverse delight in the dampening of skin and spirit, reveling in the shades of melancholy which seep within. Such ridiculous things; had I the ill fate to have been Created as one, I should have killed myself the moment I learned how.
Had one to choose a single colour for this dreary world, grey would clearly be one's choice: A pitiful half-way between white and black, a tentative ground between Hell and Heaven. Muddling along, floundering amidst the tides of ever-shifting morality and judgment, these creatures as much animal as spirit exist in a realm neither one solid place or the other.
Man tries to use elements of his existence to prove that of a good and caring God, but I see only proof of His fallibility, Creating such faulty beings.
Such a worthless thing this day aspires to be! I am glad I ordered new drapes - such a deep, thick burgundy, as a rich wine tempered by time, drawing closed a curtain between the cold dull world and the warmth of self. The grey clouds of uncertainty are left to the eternally confused creatures they compliment. They can keep this world, we have made our own.
It would be raining.
I have strength enough to keep the stuff from touching me, of course, but no longer can I shut it all back up in the heavens, where it should be of better use, perhaps wiping the simpering selfless smiles from Their faces.
But this rain... it dulls the sunlight which so often pains my darkened eyes, but it is without the clarity and fullness of night. Whether or not it actually touches this fragile flesh, it seems to have an adverse affect on the body - I find myself strangely without energy, sapped of will, even as many of the silly besotted creatures walking the water-laden streets. The state of their bodies so dictates the state of their souls to such a humourous degree! And then there are those who take a perverse delight in the dampening of skin and spirit, reveling in the shades of melancholy which seep within. Such ridiculous things; had I the ill fate to have been Created as one, I should have killed myself the moment I learned how.
Had one to choose a single colour for this dreary world, grey would clearly be one's choice: A pitiful half-way between white and black, a tentative ground between Hell and Heaven. Muddling along, floundering amidst the tides of ever-shifting morality and judgment, these creatures as much animal as spirit exist in a realm neither one solid place or the other.
Man tries to use elements of his existence to prove that of a good and caring God, but I see only proof of His fallibility, Creating such faulty beings.
Such a worthless thing this day aspires to be! I am glad I ordered new drapes - such a deep, thick burgundy, as a rich wine tempered by time, drawing closed a curtain between the cold dull world and the warmth of self. The grey clouds of uncertainty are left to the eternally confused creatures they compliment. They can keep this world, we have made our own.
posted by Melissa | 7:02 PM
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