Aren't we all wrapped with frail veils of the world someone designed for us to perceive while holdind to one's self?
Always falling a bit more and ending wrapped up stronger then before.
The fight to keep your head above water can be a tough one sometimes.
It is when the water level is over and higher our heads that we can usually focus on what really matters. Afterall, submerged is what we are just before coming to this world. And from there on, no cord is there to attach us to anything. Free...
I've got no strings
To hold me down
To make me fret, or make me frown
I had strings
But now I'm free
There are no strings on me
There are no strings on me!
From "Pinocchio"Music and lyrics by Leigh Harline and Ned Washington
Soundtrack "Avengers:Age of Ultron"
How many times have we been offered the fruit of jealousy... Flown to us in the wings of fear and tempting doubt. Leaving all in dreadful paralysis, accepting the tastes and flavours of imagination.
Surrendered and abandoned, we fall prey to our demons.
It is, though, the first time I see it represented properly, for it is so often mistaken with envy.
Thitipon Dicruen aka xric7
It has been indeed a longing for a return. I could speak of frozen landscapes, darkness, or even use many adjectives without getting to the point.
A higher sense of things urges, and it is from darkness that the light is brighter. The fire within that makes your eyes glow in the grasp of conflict.
Not anger, not fury, not berserker, though instead an elevated perception that comes from accepting all as it exists and for what it is.
Dark warrior, this is your nature.
Sadko... Why have you forgotten the one that gave you such bliss?
Throw pearls at the one's core, gold at his feet and still he is furious.
Oh, Sadko! Didn't you know that he had all the pearls he desired and all the gold of the world?
Sadko, what he wants is the song of waves, the hymn of thunders and the music of the depths.
Play, Sadko, untill you can't play anymore. Music from the depths of the heart to the depths of the sea.
Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov - Sadko, Op. 5
All that will be left is a grain of sand, a particle of dust, or not even that.
From that build up a new kingdom, glorious and full, or not even that.
Oceans, rivers, lakes, sun and moons, deserts, forests, flowers, scents, animals of the sky, land, water and fire...or not even that.
Survive, create, rebuild, change, or nothing of that.
The wave is coming, at last.