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I suppose this is not a poem..but i wanted to say it...
14 years ago
Login//USER: Echo Xane
***Warning: Dark/emo***
It has often been written, and more often mused, that on the road of life, you are joined by two constant companions..
Upon one shoulder, perched, the angel of morality, who is tasked to lead you towards grace. Upon the other shoulder lounges the angel of desire, tasked to draw you into sin.
The road of life is cast under a perpetual night. Deep in a dark wood. Overgrown, and untrue. Purity, and Desire, may be voices, calling to me in the dark.. but their words, both of them, are garbled, and lost in the echos of their own silence... No. My only constant companions on this journey, the two that have never left my side... are the torch, and the map.
The torch.. It's name is Hope... It lights my path, just far enough ahead to let me see some of the holes I might fall into..just some... and to make me feel, if ever so falsely, safe, as i walk that cold, dark path. The map.... how I hate the map...BURN IT!.. but that it will not take flame.. Cast it away then.. but for that it is stitched into my own skin... For the map.. it is titled "Regret", and shows me nothing, but the missteps, the roads not taken, the trips, the stumbles, the snares... how very little i have traveled, how very long the road before me.... and the destination... looming so far, so near...in the distance, like a gaping maw, waiting to be filled.
Which, though, I wonder is the greater curse?... The pain of the map.. or the torch that keeps me to it...
And now, I continue onward.
It has often been written, and more often mused, that on the road of life, you are joined by two constant companions..
Upon one shoulder, perched, the angel of morality, who is tasked to lead you towards grace. Upon the other shoulder lounges the angel of desire, tasked to draw you into sin.
The road of life is cast under a perpetual night. Deep in a dark wood. Overgrown, and untrue. Purity, and Desire, may be voices, calling to me in the dark.. but their words, both of them, are garbled, and lost in the echos of their own silence... No. My only constant companions on this journey, the two that have never left my side... are the torch, and the map.
The torch.. It's name is Hope... It lights my path, just far enough ahead to let me see some of the holes I might fall into..just some... and to make me feel, if ever so falsely, safe, as i walk that cold, dark path. The map.... how I hate the map...BURN IT!.. but that it will not take flame.. Cast it away then.. but for that it is stitched into my own skin... For the map.. it is titled "Regret", and shows me nothing, but the missteps, the roads not taken, the trips, the stumbles, the snares... how very little i have traveled, how very long the road before me.... and the destination... looming so far, so near...in the distance, like a gaping maw, waiting to be filled.
Which, though, I wonder is the greater curse?... The pain of the map.. or the torch that keeps me to it...
And now, I continue onward.
