Can't or Won't?











{29/05/2009}   Nursery Rhyme
"A man of words and not of deeds
is like a garden full of weeds;
And when the weeds begin to grow,
it’s like a garden full of snow;
And when the snow begins to fall,
it’s like a bird upon the wall;
And when the bird away does fly,
it’s like an eagle in the sky;
And when the sky begins to roar,
it’s like a lion at your door;
And when the door begins to crack,
it’s like a stick across your back;
And when your back begins to smart,
it’s like a penknife to your heart;
And when your heart begins to bleed,
you’re dead, and dead, and dead indeed."
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{20/05/2009}   We
We were fated to be. People live, people die, but we carry ever on. Time passes by, long-held traditions change and truth acquires different meanings. And through all this we stay, we observe and we give testimony. It’s our curse, given to us by the Gods, for the unspeakable things we did. To watch evil happen. To bear witness to ungodly things. So we stay, unchanged by the passing of centuries to be where and when evil arises. A punishment most apt. The flames of the fires of Hell would not burn us as we are made of dark thoughts and desires. The soothing quality of Heaven would not calm our spirits as our indifference was great and our souls long gone.

So as the hourglass keeps on turning we stay and testify. Not seen but felt in the corners of their minds. We are the darkness of the human heart that uses and seduces. We are in you and we see all.



“And there I was. I didn’t want to go back; I was drawn back. Not like a moth to a flame, with its final, fatal ecstasy of bright death, but like a moth to a porch light, wings beating helplessly against the glass, able to achieve neither resolution nor release.”


et cetera