I have been very lax with my poetic creativity.
Here's one I wrote a while ago that I found recently. I hope you all like it as much as I enjoyed rer-reading some old memories.
Garden of Life Part 1
One day I decided to revisit a memory.
A memory...a time and a place hidden and locked away behind a door.
Or so I thought.
It took me some time to find the key that unlocked the particular door to this particular realm.
It would have appeared I was in for a bit of a shock.
I turned the key, the very act of which hurt my very being on every place I can feel on.
Then with an almighty shove I forced the door open and what I saw well, words aren't made to describe it.
I was pulled into a void, a silent senseless world.
I was safe and good, but I was curious, so naturally I drifted outwards, caught on a wayward wind.
And soon I was on the outer currents of a tornado.
I lost everything, my armour, my weapons, my mind. Fragmented and torn I was.
Then mercilessly thrown to the wastes of a great forest.
Bleeding what could only have been the last vestiges of my soul I lay awaiting the inevitable emptying of my very being.
Hoping the shell wouldn't seem so pathetic to an outside observer.
Then I watched this amazing thing occur.
A sight that I never would believe had I not seen it.
My essence leaked a blue fire to the floor, the barren earth around me.
As it did so grass began to grow, then flowers and the trees began to strengthen and gain colour and bloom.
Wherever the blue fire touched, things grew and blossomed.
And the more things grew and lived around me, the more I lived and grew until the very sights around me ignited the passion that almost died in my heart.
But I was still so far from my door, so far from home.
I began to feel a slight wind, I knew where I had to go and so looked forward.
The huge forest towered in front of me, an obstacle beautiful and yet it was in my way.
I needed to move forward and it was now I my way.
So I raged, the blue fire flowed forth like a current of rage, completely pure in purpose.
But things just grew from such spirit and although they were beautiful they were still an obstacle.
It was then I encountered a group of like spirits. They too had strong hearts and burned with fire.
A myriad of different colored flames, we raged at the forest and still it grew.
And so the ones who knew started to move forward. With calmer hearts and knowledge of moving.
And I became a student of this interesting way of moving. I smiled and my fire became calm.
Soon I came to the end of the forest, there was a door, but no handle or key.
At first I wanted to stay in the forest and enjoy it with my new friends, no, more my new family.
But they made me see I had to go forward. So with the fire I knew how to control I forced open the door.
In front of me lay a sprawling battlefield. I heard the Ravens cawing. I was afraid to go back to the life of battle and anger.
But again the wind picked up. I was pulled inevitably into the core of my hate.
It was time to confront my reality.
The Garden of Life Part 2
And so I hit the cold and muddy ground. Copper taste in my mouth. Blood and ashes.
I scramble to my feet to see piles of the dead all face down. I see movement.
I rush to help the poor soul, I roll him onto his back. He is me and he is almost dead.
And then an arrow pierces his chest. And I dive for cover.
I look up to see a most terrible figure stamping down on the gasping victim.
The poor soul dies, a small blue flame sucked into the black armour clad figure.
He sniffs the air and smells me and smiles. He carries a key round his neck.
I have nothing, no weapons no armour and I know I need his key to get out of this hellish realm.
The question was how? As the rock I cower behind is split into two by a more than natural power and skill.
And so I run, tripping in blood which feels like it's mine and scrambling over the corpses of all of me.
And always this warrior that is me follows, kicking the pitiful dead away from him as if they were nothing.
He has a more than arrogant gait and an aggressive swagger. He is a pure predator.
Even from here I can feel the piercing eyes of that egotistical pride. They are almost looking through my eyes.
I am scared and I keep running. All that supports me is the purity of my blue fire rage in my heart.
It gives me little pockets of hopeful feeling, lifting me above my weakness for a second and stopping me sinking into despair.
So I press on and head for the door. I can't see it but I know it's there.
And then I trip and fall, they warrior is almost upon me, weapon drawn disgust in his eyes at me.
Then a flash and hands pull me to my feet. Words I don't want to believe in my ear and shove to the palace that houses the door.
I arrive, nowhere else to go. Heart thundering in my chest and my deadly adversary cuts his way through the door.
I look for a way out, none except the locked door. The walls are solid. No choice. Defeat or surrender.
Then a small blue fire leaks through the keyhole. I feel it and it is warm, friendly blue fire.
I pull this feeling close to me and it flares up. The purity of my rage fills the room.
And so the warrior and I fight and for a long time it's a struggle.
He whispers words in my ear and with each one I feel despair and hopelessness clawing at my vision.
I feel a storm forming outside, a huge hurricane, but somehow I do not feel threatened.
The storm is made from the raging blue fire and I feel I need to be in the middle.
Then I hear words again. They seem to come from the storm, it tells me who I am in truth and dispels the lies of the figure in front of me.
Echoes of many voices rebound in my head and at once I feel the rage build in my heart. I drive the disgusting revenant back.
The storm rips up the building, all bar the door.
At the eye, I drive back the adversary. Right to the walls of the storm of blue fire.
I focus my rage and draw upon the winds around me the fire burns almost white hot, yet not a tingle on my skin.
I ram my fist through the adversaries chest and retrieve my key. It expresses surprise, but I feel somehow it will shadow me, never quite beaten. A hefty cost for power.
I turn and open the door.
I come to a small garden. Mostly slabs now and so familiar.
And there are chairs and people sitting in the garden.
They turn and smile. Some are wary I notice, others analyse but some smile broadly.
I'm shown to a pond, though as I near it it is a lake.
In the middle of the lake stands a figure, it is me. Clad in a pearly armour.
I walk into the water and am surprised that I float.
I meet the figure and smile, he smiles back. Then behind me the adversary appears.
I panic at first then realise what I must do.
I hold them both close then I drift downwards. The lake becomes a whirlpool and three are one. I stand at the bottom, ready to come out the other side.
And now I look forward with more vigil and steel.
When the butterfly perfumes it's wings on the scent of the sala flowers, it may never grow to realise it has caused a typhoon for another butterfly. If the moon lights a path, it may never realise it has stolen its glamour from the sun.
I was attempting recognition. I began to stagnate like a still pond.
I tried to resist the winds, unlike the clouds.
I forced substance to myself.
What I thought was a pure rage, was in fact a hellish prideful hate.
I haven't learned anything.
I'm still learning.
