Poetry / The Slow and Quiet Whisper
the slow, quiet whisper of her breathing awakened into a loud screaming wail. i rushed inside the damp cavern wall of her self-made dungeon, inside her dark choking mind. there, chained to her faded past, she wails and weeps in self disdain seeking absolution that will never come. for it is to her, even death itself cannot heal. i have always been there for her, inside the trenches of her dying veins beneath the surface of her withered skin.
i never left her. never. not for a brief moment. always, my heart glows faint in the gorges of her dismal delusion. she is to me the destitute recluse of pure beaming light. within her lies the proverbial ebb of blissfulness. if only the sacred scent of salvation would quench her guilty soul... i would - but not i, for i cannot nor have i been given the power of absolution. i held her hand and laud her with sentiment... nothing. i have done many things she said, things that not even death can amend. things that reeks of soiled decaying flesh, she wept and wailed. i have done many things she said, things that even god's forgiveness cannot gleam - she mourned, exhausting her disturbed existence in the dark grueling furrow of her heart. the room echoing with her sobbing breath, each tear drop dripped in the obstinate crypt.
oh how i wish to free her of this hell, how i wish to deluge this bitter dream of hers into oblivion, but not i... for i have not the power to do so. i have not the power to save her forsaken soul and revive her once ambrosial self. it is for god alone that her tainted tortured self lies, it is for the celestial being which her kindred heart will once again swirl into joyous flair. how i wish to take her there and end this wretched wrought of her creation. oh how i wish... but not i, for i have not the virtue of miracles, i have not the gift of healing... just my unequivocal voice lost in the labyrinth of her thought.
you have been forgiven - i uttered to her convulsing gaze. fight not what you cannot see - i whispered far into her dissolute mind, i touched her glistening tears. fear not what you cannot taste for it is naught but your phantom self, your self indulging, self impugning guilt. it is not worth the thrust of each fiber of your being, it is not worth the trembling cause of your deed, but it is simply your tormented whim. look inside and see for you have been, like many, like the incoming tide, like the granite charade, like the echoing sound of air... unceasingly - forgiven.
she looked at me with somber hopelessness, i looked deep into her cascading eyes, beyond her bleak swelling tears and there i saw... myself. there i saw my incessant depression, my enduring fear, and my perpetual guilt... she is me - my wailing weeping soul... i wailed and cried like her. there, i wailed and cried in self disdain like a wounded being. i held her hand inside that forsaken cavern wall... besides my empty, grieving soul.
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I must begin my review by saying that this was a very enjoyable read. So powerful were the feelings and so good were they depicted that it must be the most emotional piece I’ve read in a long time. The sorrow, the love, they all come together. If you arrange this in stanzas or even if you make a short story out of it it would work. Thank you.
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