The notion of tranquility, however nice, is quite foreign to me. I sit within myself on a day to day basis and wonder exactly what is going on. There are times of epiphany, and yet, I remain numb to my condition, wondering if I will ever break through the clouds that cover my soul. The senseless bartering that fires within me continues though out the day, into the night, and awakens with me again in the morning, and I know no peace. The constant distress in my soul runs deep, its fathoms, it appears, unknown, such as the ocean, and yet, continues to a depth that cannot be measured. I see only her face, both when I close my eyes and when I open them, and though she appears so close, the distance overshadows any notion of completeness. She sits in a box, and this box, though having holes so one can see her, the lid remains closed, as her mouth does not move, and I am stricken by the silence. Her love is known, and yet, I try vainly to remember the time in which she last spoke of it, and though I do know it exists, it seems almost a myth to me now. I cannot bear the pain, the numbing of my heart, and shattering of my soul, which causes slithers of soul to pierce my heart within, and however bloody it may be, the pain is not felt due to the numbness of the organ. I dare dream of a brighter day, yet, I feel as if this nightmare is eternal, however, all it would take to break the spell over my mind is her words, a simple kiss to my ears, and yet, I fear my ears will never be open, never to feel that sweet tickle again.
Ah! You say I am black! To deep and cold, to dark and deathly for the ever morn! I feel not to cold, nor too deathly, and yet, perhaps, that stinging in my conscience is correct, perhaps I am too wrapped in myself to notice the sweet Summer air that surrounds me. However, all I see are thunder clouds, bringing the fear of light, and bringing the floods that ravage my heart with every raindrop. Yes, her love is like the rain, so sweet and cooling in the Summer heat, for just a moment, and yes I have lost myself in that moment eternal, however, the silence reaps me like a torrent, a tsunami of darkness surrounds me, and the raindrops no longer cool me, but shill me to my rattling bones.
Ah, the feeling of the fields of Elysium! Yet, Hades it seems laughs at my face, as if Heaven herself were an apparition. I laugh also at myself, for I have fooled myself into thinking that I am more then a pauper. A king perhaps? Nay! For foolishness follows princes, yet, if I be a fool, then maybe I am a prince! More then likely, however, I merely lead the prince along into my briar patch. To yield is to die, and yet I long to yield to her desire. I long to lay her down upon a rose petal bed, as the breeze blows through us as we play and tussle as lovers. To hear her sweet song again, yes, that is my dream, and maybe, if I can remain asleep a bit longer, the dream will be fulfilled.
Awake you say! What within this universe would qualify as so great to beckon me from my slumber? Oh, I have not been asleep at all it appears, only dreaming within the daylight, and that dream is my eternity, for in that moment I found myself lost to all but her, and I found her found to know one but me, and within that moment we embraced the force that beckons my heart to her, that chains my soul to her possession, and which enslaves my mind to her desire.