In dying, the bleeding pearl whispers aloud by crazy_purple_hp_freak
Chapter Notes: Thank you Laur!!
In dying, the bleeding pearl whispers aloud
The pearl plunges, dives into far seas
Where pearly tears, lost, tumble and roll,
Misplaced, perhaps, water conceals its depth,
The bottomless chasm swallows a soul.
There, bleeding white, the straws
are stained. A musty stench, damp walls,
damp floor: white washed and blanketing that, all
Twenty years before, confusion and claws –
A deep, painful gouge on brown and grey.
The carpets bear holes of a thousand burning stares,
Speckles, flecks of thought, flicker;
Gold dust darts fleetingly across corners of eyes
as porcelain shrapnel flies, shatters. Tick – tock.
The young boy, sharp and dark, astute and older,
slumps defeated and alone, a deserting soldier;
Perhaps, already the gift of life is another’s bolder
existence, whose crisp pages remain unturned, untold.
A breeze flutters and rests at the door.
Who would have thought that flowers,
Not in spring, nor sun, could bloom?
The flushed glow of youthful innocence
flies. Laughter meets the knowing rays of noon
and what was feared is clear of flight.
Diamonds ripple under waters light;
A new thought, monotonous end, is sight
as yellow grains of pollen dance into night,
And in a few steps, the world is turning.
Sullen gazes turn from carpets to stone slabs
as that place, which was and could have been home
and hell, is turning. Distance and leagues of
light air shutter over blind eyes that roam
Freely now; and the future, he believes,
could be something. A revelation perceived
Shows a pleasure of two as autumn leaves
Fall, rise, dance together. The future on a loom, weaves
itself. Though forever soon comes to an end.
When it becomes impossible to leap
Across the chasm that divides the fire
and the grass, they become strangers.
In a crowd where every other face is a mask of lies,
It is easier to run astray.
Change, subtly creeps and drapes across days
where light is obscured like an eclipse. And he prays
for a turning, a change of colour to paint the grey;
But then the heavy gates close with a sigh.
The eyes, soulless and black, brim with
Hunger, pressing hard against the windows.
A tear escapes, washes away muddy
fingerprints. The burn prickles and sears and stabs, blood flows,
and he is suddenly sickened. He did not realise
that the way was closed, dead. A disguise
that now, has been pushed into light, bitter lies
that turn to stab their master in the back. He thinks that to die
Is a premature, unwanted, undeserved, adventure.
The invisible cage spins and closes in.
The pearl, dissolving into tarnished liquid silver, sinks
like a false hope seeking clarity, never truly
believed. Laughter is caught and captured and lost in a single blink
of sight. He looks back through emerald glass,
so used to the pain reflected, the shards that cut; pain passes,
it nullifies and numbs. Outside, the urgent breeze ripples grass;
He prays and hopes and dares, and draws a breath, his last.
Love lingers, the pearl sleeps, the winds fall.
it was not in vain.