Thursday, April 14, 2011

Seasons of Time/ Ramblings of a Madman

Seasons of time
By: John Sills

Seasons change from Flowers of springs
Winds of Summer
Leaves of Autumn and
Snow of winter.
Fragments of time we never cling to understanding.
Seasons play both rapture and oblivion on my senses.
Listen to the Melancholy symphony so beautiful.
In the seasons of my life I have regret. I have sorrow
but there is is also joy, love, beauty, and valor.
For so long I felt that as I sat by and watched the world and the seasons change
That this would cause my life to lessened, worth only disdain
I felt regret for not following along suit or living outside societies definition of normality.
Now a voice whispers that as I saw, as I watched, I learned, I understood.
I became a student of something greater than society, I became a student of humanity.
There was once I looked for the sweet scent of cherry blossoms through all aspects of life.
Another all I could feel was the numbness that struck deep into my very heart.
I am everyone and I am no one. But this truth extends to us all.
We all will meet, and find others we can connect with. That we feel or think the same.
We will also meet those who do not understand.
I felt regret when I shouldn't.
Have I gone against life itself? Do I hide away from the world?
Most times I simply took a moment or a season for myself to heal the wounds that comes from a sensitive heart.
I stitch myself up. Soak my skin in tears while I numb the pain in whiskey and cigarettes.
I have severed them from my life though I miss them all. But how could we progress when the wounds are still there to remind us. How can I help those around me when my own self is hanging on?
I walk the banks of the river under the Spanish moss, remembering the children of the night.
Lost souls, vampires , all those who have come face to face with oblivion and darkness of the conditioning.
I have watched the marionettes and jesters playing for the amusement of the crown.
I have watched those who lust for revolution
I have seen those who shackle themselves with chains of sorrow
Time is three dimensional
We go forward and we go back as we all watch the events of the world and our lives within the depths of our mind.
Is there a light at the end of the tunnel, Is wind a trick on the senses.
Does the magic of life still exists when life is not present?
Desires will mold
Senses will deceive
Our spirit remains the same within us all.
Time slows to a crawl as the sad the gentleman walks slowly amidst the rush of life.
Drag your soft fingertips across the pathways of energy created by our spirits.
My head is drowning in riddles only I can solve.
Riddles that lead to truth. Truth that leads to riddles.
Can a kiss mend all things?
Or can it bring empires to their knees?
As mysterious as the tarot itself.
Why does it seem logic can fail when in the face of our desires and emotions?
Are the brain and heart not parts of the same object?
Split an apple in two then ask yourself which side is more the apple?

Find your image in the validations of others
then carve your crucifixes into your skin when you hope no one sees
Silent tears and an empty bottle and all for what?
To numb yourself from being human
To lash yourself by rod and reed because you experience another facet of life.
Our pain becomes our love, Our misery defines our bodies
Our maelstrom slowly separates our senses
Poison courses through our hearts and minds
Tell yourself the universe is pain
Convince yourself your not worthy of what you want.
And you become the sabotage you've desired.
Dress yourself in myths of who you are
Only to never show truth or declare it upon the rooftops of the world
We walk slowly through the seasons of time.
All of us walk these paths at one time or another
Past present and future become one in the same
Lessons learned become battle scars
Memories become our savior and our own damnation
Fragments of time become our salvation
While others cut us to the quick .
This is the seasons of time.
These are the riddles within the melancholy gentleman
This is the maelstrom within the depths of mind.

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