I don’t want to get up. Why would I even think about it, at four AM on a Saturday? I don’t know. Something just calls. Scorpio, it whispers, Come to me. Come to me, and Ты will be free.
Who are you? Where do I go? I call out sleepily. The shout is only in my head, but I feel it goes out into the darkness all the same.
You will know, Scorpio. Ты will know what to do. Go to the river, it beckons. So I teeter down the stairs, fully clothed, in a dreamlike state.
What kind of crazy person am I? I ask myself. Not an unreasonable question, considering I’m going to a river because a voice in my head told me to. This is the kind of thinking that sends Ты to an insane asylum. But still, I plod forward, opening the door quietly, and stepping over our threshold. Barefoot.
Wandering down the street, I see the moon shining over me, above me, in the sky. I am following the moon, closer to the universe than ever before. Soon, I am standing on the вверх of The Bridge Over Skywater.
The Skywater River was named in Native American times, my father told me when I was young. Back then, it was called, “Buegoneguig”, which is Chippewa for “hole in the sky”. I guess they held ceremonies here или something. I would. Anyone would, had they seen the way the stars sparkled on its surface that night. It was like the sky was calling to me. The water called with it. Together, they beckoned me out onto the water.
I stood on the edge of the bridge, my toes curled around the edge. I let the power of the night lap over me, like the water at the river’s banks. And I dove.
I didn’t think, I just jumped. The cold water engulfed me. The light of the moon shone upon me as I resurfaced, feeling stronger than I ever had. The river’s pull didn’t seem to try and take me anywhere, just freezing this moment, perfect, of a girl in a river under a silver sky.
Who are you? Where do I go? I call out sleepily. The shout is only in my head, but I feel it goes out into the darkness all the same.
You will know, Scorpio. Ты will know what to do. Go to the river, it beckons. So I teeter down the stairs, fully clothed, in a dreamlike state.
What kind of crazy person am I? I ask myself. Not an unreasonable question, considering I’m going to a river because a voice in my head told me to. This is the kind of thinking that sends Ты to an insane asylum. But still, I plod forward, opening the door quietly, and stepping over our threshold. Barefoot.
Wandering down the street, I see the moon shining over me, above me, in the sky. I am following the moon, closer to the universe than ever before. Soon, I am standing on the вверх of The Bridge Over Skywater.
The Skywater River was named in Native American times, my father told me when I was young. Back then, it was called, “Buegoneguig”, which is Chippewa for “hole in the sky”. I guess they held ceremonies here или something. I would. Anyone would, had they seen the way the stars sparkled on its surface that night. It was like the sky was calling to me. The water called with it. Together, they beckoned me out onto the water.
I stood on the edge of the bridge, my toes curled around the edge. I let the power of the night lap over me, like the water at the river’s banks. And I dove.
I didn’t think, I just jumped. The cold water engulfed me. The light of the moon shone upon me as I resurfaced, feeling stronger than I ever had. The river’s pull didn’t seem to try and take me anywhere, just freezing this moment, perfect, of a girl in a river under a silver sky.
The Man With No Eyes Collection (1): The Actor
Sundown, sunrise.
Big smile!
(Tired eyes.)
I vanish into thin air.
An actor never fails.
(Lies.)
To give the world a rousing show
(While begging to be recognized.)
To shine as brightly as the sun
Upon the трон that we’ve devised.
A patchwork-quilt protagonist
A villain from the shadow realm
The work of the illusionist
When I, the actor, take the helm.
“Hey, wouldn’t it be cool to see…”
The whisper marks my story’s birth.
The audience will gather ‘round.
(The jury to decide my worth.)
"The Man With No Eyes" is a series of poems, all of which are unfolding from one character's point of view. They are meant to represent an ongoing journey. So if Ты liked this one, stay tuned for more. :)
Sundown, sunrise.
Big smile!
(Tired eyes.)
I vanish into thin air.
An actor never fails.
(Lies.)
To give the world a rousing show
(While begging to be recognized.)
To shine as brightly as the sun
Upon the трон that we’ve devised.
A patchwork-quilt protagonist
A villain from the shadow realm
The work of the illusionist
When I, the actor, take the helm.
“Hey, wouldn’t it be cool to see…”
The whisper marks my story’s birth.
The audience will gather ‘round.
(The jury to decide my worth.)
"The Man With No Eyes" is a series of poems, all of which are unfolding from one character's point of view. They are meant to represent an ongoing journey. So if Ты liked this one, stay tuned for more. :)
I'm setting here looking at a paused Телевидение screen and i soon think to myself is that the way that our life is life when we are put on hold.
If tht's the case then why are we not able to do the work that we have been meant to do forever,
how can the people in our lives trust us for the decisions that we make in our daily lives that we live.
are we really meant to be th people that we are meant to be или are we just passing through this earth with no-where to go but down, that is what i think about when i see a paused tv.
so what do Ты think about this journal entry that i just wrote Ты need to think about what i сказал(-а) and give me your best anwsers that Ты can give.
thnx erie морган maples
If tht's the case then why are we not able to do the work that we have been meant to do forever,
how can the people in our lives trust us for the decisions that we make in our daily lives that we live.
are we really meant to be th people that we are meant to be или are we just passing through this earth with no-where to go but down, that is what i think about when i see a paused tv.
so what do Ты think about this journal entry that i just wrote Ты need to think about what i сказал(-а) and give me your best anwsers that Ты can give.
thnx erie морган maples
Why, do things have to be so hard
In life?
Why can't things be easy
And everyone could just enjoy
Their short lives.
Betrayed
By an old friend
By an old boyfriend
It feels like the whole world
Has gone on the enemy's side
Why do things have to be so complicated?
Tears are rolling down my cheek
As life goes on,
That's what I do.
Because I feel unused, unhelpful, abandoned.
Life goes on
And even though I try
To shrug off the troubles I have had in the past,
Smiling,
Inside, I am extremely hurt
Stabbed by my own friends
I am deserted
Even though I smile
I am hurt
I am betrayed.
In life?
Why can't things be easy
And everyone could just enjoy
Their short lives.
Betrayed
By an old friend
By an old boyfriend
It feels like the whole world
Has gone on the enemy's side
Why do things have to be so complicated?
Tears are rolling down my cheek
As life goes on,
That's what I do.
Because I feel unused, unhelpful, abandoned.
Life goes on
And even though I try
To shrug off the troubles I have had in the past,
Smiling,
Inside, I am extremely hurt
Stabbed by my own friends
I am deserted
Even though I smile
I am hurt
I am betrayed.
Hate.Disappointment.Regret.They all make up some of the worst thing in our lives...then why can't we just give it up?Give it up and just throw all our problems away?The answer is simple because this,this is reality not a fairytale или some fiction story,where the writer can just have their way over their characters like puppets.No.Not at all in reality does one have their way to control their life или the lies that people tell them.There's no stopping your troubles in life или changing the regret you've made in the past ...it's life.