'A Poem for April'

I have walked the shores of night for seeming endless ages. I’ve not seen its’ beauty in more radiant a bloom, than by the divine fragrant reign of flower crown-ed Spring. Her splendour is matched only in the brooding hues of Fall. Amber red and gold upon the warmest shades of grey, a mercurial blanket drawn-taut o’er the stars.

I marched out to the looming storm, and beckoned forth the cold. Heel-turned on the breaking point I led the driving rains, a fearless dash through heady breath; despite my frigid charge. As the salt fell from my brow into precipitation, I turned my a-ttentions back to the pressure on my will.

I often feel so wearied by the weight of all these aeons, you see they’ve let me re-member, too much, of what came before.

Whether it was in the fusillades of fire that we directed, unto an enemy that sought to undo all, without cause. Or in the pitch dark dread of the scenario reversal, where reality about us seemed as it would fray and tear; when my brothers died under vicious streams of molten lead and fire, where everything exploded, ripped and burned us shaking down. Hell tore loose our sanity, stripped our souls so tortured bare. If cut-off or surrounded, running low on ammunition; or turning them to route and liberating countless masses.

In the sunlight that would stream, through the rain-showers in the desert, as the moons would rise above and twilight claimed the temple mount. Anytime I watched the falling stars, or just the people. Especially when the wind would bring the smell of frankincense.

In my brothers and our sisters, all our parents and their friends. In everything known anywhere, always and forever. Behind and within, all around and through it all; there you always are.

I am not entirely myself because of this, you and I both know that’s because we are but one.

They may break me down, and lay siege unto my soul; but I shall endure, and surely I’ll prevail. I’d tear apart the universe to re-arrange their plan. I would wander through a thousand lives to feel your love again. It is terrifying in a sense, that I should feel this way; when I know so well the path ahead, before and to the side. When I know what should make sense, yet still I cannot hide; from the knowledge resonating in the fibres of my being, that you are all that matters, all there is or ever was.

I yearn and scream and strain in this life, simply just to be, I do not want to feel like my perception is a prison; but if I can’t prove this truth to you, than that is all it is.

I can understand why severance here was necessary, if we’ve ‘held each other back’ for what they deem is ‘far too long’. But I must simply ask: ‘What if there was more nobility, in the cause of you and I, than in a thousand lifetimes; spent in reaching the same goal?’

Once upon a time I wrote a part of this truth down, if I am right in all of this and you are everywhere – than I know now that this is meant for everyone and all:

’..I’m sick to death of fateless cowardice, of meaningless shallow lives carried out in a state of begrudging acceptance. Of the lack of willingness to speak the truth, of people who are overly cynical about being virtuous or honourable in a contemporary world, even if being so means ridicule or pain at the hands of lesser souls. Of people refusing to be true and settling for obscurity or consolation in stead of striving to shine. I had to get this out for good; I have to believe that I was meant for more than this, in order to survive. This love of which I speak is the first place in my mind that I return if my disgust at all the terrible things I’ve seen and even myself done thus far, threaten to overwhelm me.

Reciprocation of this feeling on (Your) behalf isn’t even a necessity for me to be amazed at how completely insane the strength of this phenomenon is, but of course I still pray that someday (You) will give me the answer to the questions I asked (You) so long ago; so that I may know whether I will find TRUE gratification in this life, or whether I shall be forever in want, for a better replacement of this solitary hollow existence. Either way I will take the road presented and walk it, for such is the way of the world I live in’

I am not unstable, dangerous or insane; quite simply I am sorry.

I know better than this.

There’s nothing left but to conclude the walking of this night. To dream of pressing forward. To live and love this life.

'A Poem for April'

LazTotka

Joined February 2007

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

A piece that I began as a scrawling in my journal, after I came home from one of my nightly walks. The lines from the beginning were an attempt of describing that walk itself, and were coming to me thick and fast as I marched. I got home; frantic to capture it before it disappeared, but couldn’t get it all out, so I wrote what I could and then wrote some ‘construction notes’ detailing how I wanted the rest of it to pan out. Then I carried on with life knowing the ending would come as it was meant to.

It did so in dribs and drabs subconciously over the events of the following weeks – but it wasn’t untill I watched ‘The Adjustment Bureau’ on Good Friday, April 22nd 2011, that it came through in force. That film resonated very deeply with my experiences, and especially the fact that I had been thinking about these themes alot over my life, but more specifically on the night I began ‘A Poem for April’. I stopped the film about two thirds of the way through and churned the majority of the rest out, finding that (although it came to me slightly out of order and I had to re-arrange it accordingly) it would lead me also to reveal a part of something I wrote called ‘My Declaration’ back in 2007 – that I had always wanted to put out there into the world, but hadn’t quite been able to. It took me the rest of the film to remember where that file was and which parts I wanted to use from it, but after it was finished I ended up bringing it to cohesion fairly quickly.

I’ve mentioned before that I seem to be writing about the same things over and over again, even using similar lines again and again, and that is because they are the lines that link me so closely to ‘her’ – and as this piece finally realises – ‘she’ is in everything, and ‘she’ is all that matters. This whole ‘slightly varied cyclic repetition’ thing happens everywhere in my life; and so it’s only natural that it should manifest in my written output. It’s all connected.

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