Rosy bird, shaking its wings off the autumn rain. Rosy bird, chirping gleefully through the sunset vale. Saved now, saved again by the Cthonian pyre of truthful gaze. Oh, how did the flaming tongues scald the sentry's fortress of eyeless self! In the night of day, in the devoted ballroom of conscious pretence - moonstruck and moon-strained from unearthed terrors of solar haze - birdy bird did cantillate, with blood tears, the shackles away. The black devourer crawled from the dungeon cells: Stygian, starless madness - a wailing ghost, a mindful lover in the haunted corridors behind the masks we wear. ~*~ Rosy bird, incinerated by art of self to crown itself sovereign again and again. Rosy bird, the infernal shadows wrought about the end of luminaries' benighted lanterns. Watchful bird, the world is the empire of dreams in reverse. Phoenix bird, saved now, saved again from winter's premature embrace. Titan bird, reborn in the reflection of theatre's grace. Saved now, saved again by the sentient might of consciousness.
This year has proved itself quite engaging, has it not? This is a note for you, dear reader. In the fathomless pools of your sorrow and despair, remember! Remember to keep inquiring yourself. Your liberation lies with the courageous action to seek and comprehend yourself. Unveil your shadows; for that which makes you uneasy is the key to your escape. Even in hopelessness, there is hope still to find your path to a life you would deem worth living. Know yourself and master yourself, else some other force will take command. Know yourself, because only you can accept or deny how to live in any shape or form.
With Conviction,
Alyona