As these boulders batter my fading happiness, I cannot justify these thoughts. If I truly am a coward I should relish in the complacency of the previous life, titillate myself with the knowledge that my happiness was derived from mere association with the bliss of others. No matter the vacuous sentiment, which belied my veneer to the unremitting dolor of its true nature, inevitably I conclude, in this doleful cogitation, that I was the betrayer. Through my cowardice I had become the pariah, desperate for a realization of the perfidious façade, that betrays his kin for the sake of personal satisfaction. Indeed, I was the boulder tumbling down from on high and crushing her with a wanton wrath of pride and arrogance. And like Niobe, I am now but a weeping stone on the mountain, seeing only as Apollo’s last arrow soars ever closer to my last hope.
From this my evanescing soul can wrench no happiness, this much is true. Never passes a day when my thoughts diffuse the agony, and never a thought is had that subtracts from the sum of my pain. But they serve as a distraction – a focus for my consciousness outside the realm of suffering, so that I may, at times, reserve appreciation for the fact that though the pain is shared, I bear my secret alone. It is a solace from utter woe to adjudge some benefit from the pain I have inflicted. So I think these things as the sunlight, which itself is a mere allusion to the life it might otherwise provide, cascades upon the frigid air each morning, never daring to utter my thoughts for fear they would come true. And the somber silence remains unbroken.
06-Apr-2008 01:26:53
- Last edited on
10-Feb-2013 04:50:31
by
Yrolg