Elucidating Questions

Mother of memory who stands with the candle holding the muses to scream above the sky.

Once upon a time there were nine.

How many now you ask for numbers when they all all just increased.

After all the humans did, so who says it didn’t get bigger to fit the myth

As every myth engulfed the myths of the myths and told these stories over again

Slowly and slower

With less and less men,

The characters to remember, the importance of the faces, slowly decreased

Once upon a time of destinies,

The list of names went on forever,

And no one ever wins.

After all who needs victory, when there are those behind still suffering, if I could pull them all with me

Pull every one.

I would steal the fire to light their way,

Yet I hear the scream here as well,

And it is how you need it to be,

But I cannot believe

That there was ever only one,

When the story started

With wanting to be the only one, you see,

Worship no other, just one only one,

Which means there were others,

And I can choose to move farther and farther and farther away.

In the cold expanses of galaxy empty space.

In a house with the strangers. In a box with the things.

In the outside with smoke, in the outside with waves.

In the inside the thousands of thoughts that just flow away. I don’t remember moments, or seconds, or thoughts.

I remember I am a student. Not what I am not.

And yet this thing keeps attaching, this thing. It’s only a beautiful story for the winners of history.

Yet we worship it here, and the denial of it is grounds for dismissal from life as you know it.

This misery of the beneath that never quite gets told, because the bards forgot their functions,

And began panning for gold.

Dear crying sister who I have not met,

I know. I know. I know. And it hurts and I’m so sorry.

I wish people would be good, I wish they would see life of others as valid and beautiful and right to let live.

Dear sister, if only we could come together and be louder than ever.

Our crying mother, I hear her too,

And I also see the sun and the moon.

I see the clouds dying, I see what’s missing.

Something far away, but shall we hope that justice gets him?

When one twin is dead and there is no other left,

When there is nothing left.

Don’t be stupid.

Simple they say, but it’s clear to see that no one understands who or what the twin is.

It’s unfortunate.

Don’t be stupid.

Dead and gone.

Dead.

There have been words since the beginning that are long gone and erased in the never ending existence of never being seen.

Songs recorded, chances taken away,

There is no twin.

There may have been.

The duality of the feelings, the sides of the moon

But the never wanting to take or ask for or demand.

I thought it was an open invitation. I was wrong.

Why doesn’t anyone understand?

I wish someone would just say something…

Unfortunately circumstances are not favourable to make the words work,

I suppose that means the spell is ruined now.

Can’t replace the now irreplaceable that I gave away to try to connect.

They all left too.

Who is the me who would help?

No one. No never.

Hope is well lost.

I wanted it back, but I can’t ask for it, given away because giving giving giving giving.

I gave her the piece I had connected to grandma. She ignored it.

I gave her the piece I connected to love, it wasn’t good enough.

I gave him the heart, thinking I wouldn’t need such a thing. Trying to pass on hope.

But it disappeared and I now miss a thing.

Because it’s all I have left of a story that never happened,

I want it back. Can I please have it back?

Can’t I replace it?

No. The place is gone.

I don’t know how to speak to someone who never wants me.

A cloudy day with no rain.

It’s hell every day for me.

Don’t tell me what you think of me anymore,

I already know

Somewhere by your side and laughing because it’s true every day

The laughter joins the tears.

Anybody could be.

The status quo, billions of people are by your side.

That logic quite truthfully must mean,

Nothing at all.

It’s all nothing. Meaningless nothing.

You could admit it, but you would rather blame me,

For going that far,

When you are the one that pushed me into the target.

Diamonds are not rare like a star they are everywhere.

When the gods wear clothing when the god said it was merely humanity that wore it

The things misrepresented over the years of no change as the stagnation of culture is really to blame

Each one has its own shapes and facets and pieces and parts.

The stones of which there is more than one, when the metals have rusted and the gold melted away,

It’s not either a diamond that is here to stay.

Amethyst crystals, the rocks of the earth,

Pieces of mother to carry, as she watches you walk away from the island.

Quartz of the moon and tigers’ eyes.

Agate the colour of the infinite sky, castle in the sky the melody is here too.

Ancient, and I hear it and once it gave hope.

Now it’s merely a memory,

Of someone I don’t even know.

Stop pointing fingers I’m tired of being pushed.

It’s never enough anymore.

Being alone ends up hollow, just like it did

When I pulled something from the sky, and cried out after,

It was the worst feeling of being.

Alone in the dark. And alone.

No high will ever be high enough

To make up for the people who I am without.

Dear old friend,

Someone who I know that seems to know me, but we don’t.

Did you ever hear his voice where it didn’t belong?

Or did you find pieces to make up parts of the songs?

I asked him and he said no,

I wouldn’t ask him in real life,

In dreams we are friends.

In daylight we aren’t.

Meeting and parting over and over.

True kindness, or the strength of love,

Don’t forget about me as he cries.

Yes, I know.

I want to though, is the strength not forgetting? Is it the holding on to the line?

Show a smile even if the pain and sadness overflows.

Even when the lungs burn and breathing is hard,

Is it awful to say I felt better because I knew when I woke that we felt the same pain?

Dear not a friend, but I wish we could be,

I’m sorry I felt it. I was wrong.

That being able to feel the same pain should make me feel better. Or that I would use it to feel comrades that don’t exist.

I already learned my lesson once.

I wish I wasn’t the one meant to walk alone, but it would seem they have spoken.

There were at least twelve.

It was a joke.

No more of the fucking book.