VivianWithout Imagination
January 16th 2008 10:56
The world is a cruel place. There is not much that can help you coping with all the horror, burning desires and defeating experinces. If you drown in the ocean of despair, you will reach for the only helping hand there is, the imagination. The imagination is like an angel that reaches out for you when you start drowining in the sea of hopelessness.
She wonders the streets of Sydney. Ever so full of optimism, never failing to observe. You hope that she will look into the windows of your home, the true window to your soul. You will tell her your story in hope she will embrace your sorrows and free you from your pain.
The greatest battle lies within. It is the fight between the evil and the vulnerable brave in yourself. Days can be full of struggle to defeat what is a part of you. A part that will stay with you and harm you. Yet it belongs to you. ‘Please rip it out’ You want to scream, but the evil spirit quietens you, takes away your voice, as if it hasn’t taken away too much already.
The evil can not take your inner-self. But who reaches out, when you feel your lungs fill with water, when you struggle to believe in hope and fairness. Will the evil in you destroy the hope? Isn’t hope supposed to be the last thing to die? The utter irony is, hope dies long before it becomes conscious to you that agony conquered. You need to reach out, hold on to what your mind is almost to weak to create…”Imagination”, you whisper.
The angel does not like what she sees. You have left a broken heart with her and you hope she will take care of it and protect it. You need someone to carry your sorrow away, far away in a land where pain is unknown. Where imagination is reality and where reality turns into the angel that wanders our streets and keeps looking into our homes, our hearts...
When have you stopped being honest to yourself? Have you stopped at that exact moment, you realized moments you should not have realized? The moment you remembered that the evil defeated the brave? Or the moment you realized that it is all history and the only thing you can do is keep on breathing. Maybe that is all you can do, for a time you tried so hard to believe in, as a dream, as a nightmare. Ironically the nightmare is not the worst of your problems. It is the reality, the non-dream that keeps on going eternally and the realization that you have a choice, even though it wasn’t your choice in the first place that brought you where you are today.
There is yet another broken heart to collect, “how much can it bear to carry?”. Let me tell you, it’s not the weight that wears her down, it is the pain in your homes, in your souls. The imagination comes from a land without grief. Can it cope at all you think?
Oh if you only would be able to force the evil away from you, into the open, where anxieties can be released. You would watch them dance with the wind for a while, just a little while to say good-bye to what has been a great and precious part to yourself, the inner complexity you are so desperate to grasp. After a while you would then have the courage to let go, even though it feels like ripping out the last breath the body holds before it dies. Only then, could come security and pureness. But you have to be quick to catch them before they take off with the wind forever to an aloof country beyond all hills. If that happens a new journey starts, with hopes set to zero and a heart shaking of tiredness and aggravation.
You’ve made her cry, your pain hits the imagination with such a force, she falls to her knees. Hard is the package she has to carry. The thoughts of so much pain pushes her down to the ground, doesn’t allow her to get up again. Her optimisms fails her, desperation increases. The sun that was so faithful until now is overshadowed by clouds. Clouds filled with anxiety. But how can the imaginary angel relieve her anxieties? Pressure increases, it is a dead end. The last stop…
She wants to escape from the city back to the land where pain does not exist. Quiet down the city, she thinks. Taking away its power to harm. The light to see.
In the darkness, the city quiets down and only then can the angel be free. At least for a little while..
She wonders the streets of Sydney. Ever so full of optimism, never failing to observe. You hope that she will look into the windows of your home, the true window to your soul. You will tell her your story in hope she will embrace your sorrows and free you from your pain.
The greatest battle lies within. It is the fight between the evil and the vulnerable brave in yourself. Days can be full of struggle to defeat what is a part of you. A part that will stay with you and harm you. Yet it belongs to you. ‘Please rip it out’ You want to scream, but the evil spirit quietens you, takes away your voice, as if it hasn’t taken away too much already.
The evil can not take your inner-self. But who reaches out, when you feel your lungs fill with water, when you struggle to believe in hope and fairness. Will the evil in you destroy the hope? Isn’t hope supposed to be the last thing to die? The utter irony is, hope dies long before it becomes conscious to you that agony conquered. You need to reach out, hold on to what your mind is almost to weak to create…”Imagination”, you whisper.
The angel does not like what she sees. You have left a broken heart with her and you hope she will take care of it and protect it. You need someone to carry your sorrow away, far away in a land where pain is unknown. Where imagination is reality and where reality turns into the angel that wanders our streets and keeps looking into our homes, our hearts...
When have you stopped being honest to yourself? Have you stopped at that exact moment, you realized moments you should not have realized? The moment you remembered that the evil defeated the brave? Or the moment you realized that it is all history and the only thing you can do is keep on breathing. Maybe that is all you can do, for a time you tried so hard to believe in, as a dream, as a nightmare. Ironically the nightmare is not the worst of your problems. It is the reality, the non-dream that keeps on going eternally and the realization that you have a choice, even though it wasn’t your choice in the first place that brought you where you are today.
There is yet another broken heart to collect, “how much can it bear to carry?”. Let me tell you, it’s not the weight that wears her down, it is the pain in your homes, in your souls. The imagination comes from a land without grief. Can it cope at all you think?
Oh if you only would be able to force the evil away from you, into the open, where anxieties can be released. You would watch them dance with the wind for a while, just a little while to say good-bye to what has been a great and precious part to yourself, the inner complexity you are so desperate to grasp. After a while you would then have the courage to let go, even though it feels like ripping out the last breath the body holds before it dies. Only then, could come security and pureness. But you have to be quick to catch them before they take off with the wind forever to an aloof country beyond all hills. If that happens a new journey starts, with hopes set to zero and a heart shaking of tiredness and aggravation.
You’ve made her cry, your pain hits the imagination with such a force, she falls to her knees. Hard is the package she has to carry. The thoughts of so much pain pushes her down to the ground, doesn’t allow her to get up again. Her optimisms fails her, desperation increases. The sun that was so faithful until now is overshadowed by clouds. Clouds filled with anxiety. But how can the imaginary angel relieve her anxieties? Pressure increases, it is a dead end. The last stop…
She wants to escape from the city back to the land where pain does not exist. Quiet down the city, she thinks. Taking away its power to harm. The light to see.
In the darkness, the city quiets down and only then can the angel be free. At least for a little while..
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