A Lament for the Simplicity of Life
The sun-splashed meadow calls to me even now, as I am buried within tons of concrete. It is as though its honey-sweetened airs have wafted across hill and dale to present themselves to me here; their cries echo in my ears, calling for me to come and play.
I once danced under the heavy branches of the oak and fir, mindlessly passing by the brilliance of the leafy green glens. Carousing amidst the chirps of wild birds, I would mutter in an unintelligible language that only the trees could comprehend. Such light-heartedness warms me even now. My flowing garb of fairy-silk would drift in amongst the grasses.
What now! Has all childhood been for naught? Has all playfulness been condemned to external doom, enclosed in a jar now buried under the earth? My mind longs for the simplicity of life, what once was mine but has now been lost in the crashing waves of the ocean. Its cool, salty spray falls upon me, reminding me of what once was but can now never be reattained.
I catch those ancient breezes now and again, and they serve to refresh me. The smile of a friend, a lightness in the gaze of a loved one, the laughter shared in moments of joy, the random statements that surge from deep within. All of these stoke flames of creativity that now lie as cooling embers in my soul.
I am a warrior princess, dressed in finery and also in battle gear. I wield my sword deftly, defending the weak and innocent against the wrath of the principalities of this world. While my hand is strong from holding a sword, it is also soft and gentle, grasping the hands of those who have fallen and cannot get up on their own.
Yet while I aid those who cannot help themselves, I am sometimes so overcome with weariness and such strong emotion, I sink to the ground in desperation, pleading for aid. But those whom I have helped in their darkest moments haughtily turn their backs and sneer as they send billowing blackness towards me.
Yet no dragon will take me captive; even though I stumble and stagger like one smote across the head with a stick, I can yet find strength to rise. It is such a comfort to know that I am not alone. My knight on my right-hand side, my star on my left, and my Master in the front, I shall surely be raised up and cared for to the end of my days.
So let the wind blow where it will, for no matter where those whisperings come from and no matter where they go, I shall not be wavered from my path. Though I be buried or trapped in steel, my heart shall be forever free to wander the realms of imagination and peruse the heavenly heights.
So yeah...kinda lame and probably inconsistent in thought process. The writing isn't great, but hey, whatever. At least it is a start! And praise God that my creative streak is coming back :P I can feel it slowly surging into my veins again; it feels so good to have that familiar rush return.
That shall be all for now! Cheerio folks!
Signed with a battle axe,