The Old Tiny Copper Tea Pot- (Unfinished)

In the darkness of the full and isolating forest, an old disjointed cabin; it's foundation like old dry, brittle sticks, much like the old woman who resides there.

Her frail and weak body resting soundly on her ancient rocking chair and in the background an old, quaint shelf, engulfed in cobwebs and better days lay; resting a tiny copper tea pot.

It's shape once round and whole had become warped with one side jutting out slightly over the many years of neglect. It's crude appearance overwhelming with tarnish, spotting and dust much like callus on skin.


It lay on the shelf, alone, dejected and disguarded; the old woman had long since given up on this prize. It had now become too heavy to lift, to difficult to hold; to troublesome to boil. Even so a sense of hope

and possibilities still flowed through the tiny spout,It could remember the first time it was boiled, the feeling of an excessive warmth rushing throughout like a enormous overflowing blanket. It could remember the sweet smelling teas, of countless kinds.

It could remember the happiness it felt by simply being needed.

Death of the Chief.

"Griefs retched cinders have burned holes through my broken heart, it's ashes have left me in dark clouds of endless sorrow, and in such a devastating time I must rationalize a decision. Lorian my son, so young; and fragile has been broken by the loss of his innocence. My only hope is the love, my people have known me to have -so much of, can piece back together the strength for your understanding at such a young age.."

Her cloudy sad eyes fell to the ground, with such an enormous pressure, she had little to no time to conclude a more logical response.. "yes.." she wept, heartfelt tears that dripped over her dark skin. " after three winters my son, will take his place. When life can once again resuscitate the remains of it's frozen, cruel heart, after the third winter, yes." "Diferion" Nelgar paused, "you shall maintain order until then" and with that Nelgar retreated back through the beaded doorway of her modest hut.

Abyss

Originally written: March 23rd 2009

Bright luscious green, filled every tiny crevasse as far as the eye could possibly see. Walking through trees and flower, as if they were all happy to see me; never imagining that there could ever be darkness left in this world.

Through a thicket of bush, and dense foliage lay ground to a gap of bleak and gloom.
Something never wishing to be found, but not unwilling to take in its prisoners. Distracted by the splendors that life can occasionally bring to a person you would be oblivious to such a discreet imperfection and since it would seemingly be out of place, your thoughts would be none the wiser neither.
Let this be a lesson, the darkness would say; a warning in times where all the good in the world showers you with wondrous promises, through life there are always prices to pay; for mistakes for fortune and misfortune.

And with that in mind a balance must be maintained for the greater good.
I believe the lessons one must learn in life, are more obvious for a reason. Points are made that cannot be ignored any longer, what are my choices in life? What is the right path to make?
When my mind believes in something, so strongly so sure of. Who am I to fight it?
The truth with many realities is that, I procrastinate, I push back my thoughts, and hide them behind glass doors, for a time when my anger has nothing left to do but let them out.
Ghosts and shadows, of my ideal logic, I have beautiful dreams you know?
Dreams that I wish to nurture, but still in my life at this very moment there are so many uncertainties about life, about these choices, about the infinite paths to take, the risks I ignore, the logic I hide.

My roots are strong but they have diminished, and now I have chances to revive such roots? To go back to the person I was, and I am at a loss for words, a loss for choice.
It is these times that create hardship; I am relying on that of which force that just floats me on by, i listen to others; and go with it.

No longer putting up a fight, it is those doors; that I refer to, sometimes its simply easier, to let life takes its own choices, that is how spontaneity works.

Companionship, Fact or Fiction?

Originally written: June 6th 2009

During a study i manually constructed myself; I had found that I was not the only one who found that companionship is under-rated.
Now to clarify, companionship in this circumstance does not just limit itself to a traditional relationship; I am also taking from the friendship bowl as well.

A genuine and true person, the rare gems that seem to have long since been gone.
It seems as though everybody is searching for this priceless gem, in movies we always see the same beautiful scenario, a typically beautiful main character,male or female with one if not more, caring and considerate friends-whom no matter what go out of there way to either A) console the main character or B) celebrate some event, relevant or otherwise.

As for real life it’s entirely a different story, i suppose for a fictions story-movie the idea of “friends” is to beef up the conversations and add more substance and support to the main story line, if it’s a romance story; its quite embarrassingly painful to watch these impossible and unrealistic people going through some fantastic event.

Truly, this unattainable life is like waving a candy of sorts right in front of our very eyes; “come see the beautiful people in amazing relationships, loved by all far and wide.”
I ponder if this sort of scenario exists in real life, you know-the real world we do in fact live in.
The only comparison is those young beautiful people who die at young ages, through some terrible monstrosity, a parent shows several pictures of said young adult, and despite their age is spoken with such a high regard. “Loved by all, made such an incredible contribution to the world”

And by chance these beautiful creatures are remembered forever, what ever happens to those not so fortunate, alas I don't mean with death alone; I refer to those less blessed than others; less popularity, less impact and success, why is it we never hear about their story?
Has society become so far gone that even stories of horrific tragedies are based on superficiality?
The vanity of the world riding high and pretty – parallel to growing greed, meanwhile we are all programed to ignore it all.

The truth is real companionship is a myth, it no longer exists, all actions are done consciously or otherwise for the greater good of oneself. To our own advantage in a way.
Even being a savior, done for recognition and praise or even self gratification.

Preface

Today marks the day of the marvellous conception to an unknown potential. Today, a tale shall be told; one filled with immense conviction, suffering, joy and loss but also with an indescribable amount of hope and love.

These tales are based on both truth and lies.