Written Whispers

She was born under a Sagittarian sky. A winter sky. An early sky.

It’s far too early.

This world was meant to be a different place, under a different sky.

She was to come and bring hope to a place and a people who were ready to accept it but instead she finds herself in a world on the brink. Sitting on the cliffs between an unimaginable void of self destruction or the precipice of something new, a world just about to open their eyes and begin accepting one another and all things as they truly are.

Instead she was born into this world. Under this sky. Too early.

Instead she was born eyes open into a blind world with blind ways. The people here are so used to stumbling that when one walks straight they are known as the outsider. So, in turn it is she who sees that feels the most blind amongst her peers, stumbling over their well worn paths without escape.

This land is strange and these are not her ways. To watch as others look on day in and day out, from sunset to sunrise, and the crossing of the moon across their sky. They watch and have the ability to see so much but they do nothing. Accept nothing. Let the nothing consume them until it is so full it becomes a something much more powerful than that which the human mind can comprehend.

False wordings and worded falsehoods. These often unknowingly forked tongues speak a language she can’t seem to master and in her soul she is thankful but in her heart is sad. Without language she can’t communicate, can’t help them, can’t reach out, cannot awaken. She is lonely to be born so soon under this ever darkening sky. No others are here and at the same time- they are. They are here and she knows it. She sees them and gathers them but they do not know it.

They have blinked but the eyes are not yet open, the sun of this sky too burned down for them to see properly.

This world is not yet her world. It is a cruel world with cruel ways that make her bones ache and her soul quake in despair. Children’s tears for rain and industrial smog for cloud cover, this is the normal forecast of the day. They breath in chemicals willingly and only money can push those with power into caring about how many more years their world will last and wether or not their grandchildren will see the dawn of a new day and if the rainforest will have been a mere story of the old.

But it’s alright. Let them continue their ways under their sky. Let the moon rise and fall in their time so that it might end and be done with. All the sooner our sky can rise. All the sooner we will be ready for the hope. All the sooner she can awaken the sleepers.

She is not the only one.

The sleepers sleep to protect themselves from the radioactive hatred of this world. They too have come here early but in a different perception of the word. Everyone is much too early. No one should be born under this sky. This is not our world. Our world is meant to be a place of peace and coexistence with so much more than just ourselves. To be wide eyed and awakened, lively and free.

As it stands this sky can be meant for no one. No one should have to accept this for what it is.

She was not yet meant to be, this new child. A being meant to lay in wait until this world was ready for her, ready for the birth of a new sky, ready to love and accept one another. No, she is much too early, but alas, time is running out. This sky is fading and the new one is not yet on the horizon. The sleepers must awaken, they must awaken and hold back the doom until their is a new sky to live under else all shall fall into the ever growing nothingness.

Let the sleepers awaken under this dark sunrise. May there be just enough light left to hold you over until our moon crosses into the future sky.

This entry was posted on Monday, January 28th, 2008 at 10:21 am and is filed under Misc. Creative Writing, Wings & Things. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.