The worst lies are the ones that were once truth – “I will always love you”, “the hair isn’t going anywhere. I’ll take care of it”, “I want to spend my life with you”, “You are all I need”, “Together we will make it”. I am here, still holding onto those truths but you’ve long left and those are simply truths past. You didn’t mean to lie to me but here I am, searching for new truths to anchor myself to and hoping that those too won’t leave me adrift again.
Last week Midas Monkee released their production schedule giving us a glimpse of the new fantastical universe the company is trying to build. Paul Louise-Julie, writer, artist and founder of Midas …
Source: From Middle Earth to Aya
Out here in the Shadowlands
Where the fires burn cold
And touch knows no comfort
But acrid bitter for
Through broken trust
From promises broken.
Here in the shadowlands
Where we know no hearth nor home
We wander the desolate streets
to haunt as the forsaken
The walkways of yesteryear
Cursed to yearn that which we lost
As we look in
Through pain-stained glass
Of the happiness that is, without.
In the shadowlands
Were the forgotten tread
And hope dies a thousand deaths
For things fall apart
in the ever widening gyre
these best laid of plans
control, nothing but
life’s greatest illusion
fate, destiny, happenstance, chaos
what may you
that which may be written in the stars
or sand on tide-washed beach
that which throws the lie
life to be lived
for what of man
against nature’s fickle prerogative.
The world around me crumbles
dreams shatter, but I can dream anew
my world ends
but I am calm
not, not for new beginnings in life’s unending cycle
but for I have you.
Some days weigh heavy upon us, leaden with worries and burdened by promises and commitments made. We hold the sky aloft, fight the good fight and keep the end at bay whilst we hope for respite. Of those days, some days we cry out to the heavens and wait till Atlas can share the load. Some days, it is more than we can bear and it all comes crashing down. And we hope unlike humpty dumpty we can put it all together again. And some days, the hardest of days, are attritional days, days made for a gradual grind and the slow inexorable march of progress, a water and mountain day.
Distance like time passed tints everything with a warm rosy hue. Its all sunshine and rainbows and all of a sudden you’re perfect and all the darkness and tears before it are forgotten. I can no longer remember of there was more sun than cloud.