~As you walk into the room words flow through the air, pounding through your blood and mind inviting you to listen, to hear...~
I remember...
When hands were not striped with sword calluses,
When eyes had not seen the rape of innocence,
When minds knew only childish glee.
Once upon a time...
When stately princes rode on white chargers,
When shining castles spires rose among the clouds,
When tales ended with Happily Ever Afters.
This is the death of purity...
When dragons ravage once green land for its bounty,
When powerful kings cower behind walls of law afraid to act,
When nations rise in ugly anger, brother against brother.
We all stand alone...
Clinging to the rusted hilts of shattered swords,
Watching our fantastical dreams melt and burn,
In the heat of a thousand suns.
The memory alone survives...
There is no turning back the hands of time,
No stopping the wheels of fate,
Our heartshead tears are useless...to the dead.
Write me no stories of horror
Write me nothing that dims my light,
That tarnishes my soul.
I have seen enough of the cruelty that men bear
Of the pain they gift each other.
I have seen the pure, corrupted,
The innocent stripped of that which was most precious.
I do not need your tales, for I live in an imperfect world.
Write instead of gladness;
Write of song, of smiles, of light.
Write of undying love, untouched by the lust of man's eyes.
Give me something to hope for.
Restore my faith in dreams.
Do not take me into that dark night,
For I have walked there before,
Trod in places where angels dare not go.
I have felt the fear, pulsing in my own mind,
Tearing at my heart and body until all that was left was the scarlet haze.
And I stood in my own room through it all.
Take me instead to wide fields of wild flowers,
Walk with me beneath the light of a pale moon,
Keep me safe in your arms, held against the night.
Love me, not as a man loves a woman, but as a friend.
Love me for me, not for the form I bear.
Care that I hurt, care that I live or die.
Give me back my tears,
Those that the world has taken from me.
Give me back my youth, my belief, even if only for a moment.
Help me live instead of merely surviving.
Help me find the joy in each day.
Teach me to stop, to hug a friend, to smell a rose, to watch the sunset.
If you would give me a gift, let it be these, for I desire no others.
Write me my dreams...set me free.
All work here is copyrighted by Jana Stocks, and protected by the ~ITC.