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it's in the title
Reflections of a Forgetful Mirror
forgetful mirrors that show only the darkness in a garden that craves the light, reflections shattered showing of those lost in your eye, thier shards pierce the heart of those who love. A wanderer in this night, as silent as the moon in response to the dreams of a waker. Angels and demons move on away, never caring to look and see the light in a waker's heart, or to hear the cries of a garden languishing in despair. without looking how are they to see how little thier reflections care? More and More the light grows dim, a pulse in the hearts of few. A longing for a touch, a hunger that will not slake. Salty rain from thier eyes falls into this wasteland, debris from when roses whither. Only a lover's touch may cause them to bloom again in joyous color, as winter threatens to steal all but thorns, leaving them bare.

This garden many have left behind, choosing to squelch the bloom under thier heel, never caring for the beauty that could have been. Others pass through and see only the thorns left by those, never thinking it could bloom again. Irritated by the insolence of a thorn's scratch they cut them down one by one untill nothing remains. An oak shattered by lightning stands and keeps watch, wary of growing shadows, and laughing casts a dappled light into the evening. Leaves blow cheerily in the wind trying to dampen it's chill as only the sun can. Dancing they leave in thier merriment never to be seen again. Daisies pass themselves off as roses more dead then alive, false prophets of love the do not wish for. Thier hopes are caught in the breeze, shorn from al that's real. Brambles grow among them trying to catch those unaware, ripping compassion to shreds like so many paper knives.

Crows come impatient in the search for flesh, cawing and scritching at the dirt when the skirl of a hawk calls down for them. Glossy and preening among the flowers, they shall find no harvest here.

Cricket's chirp comforts when light grows dim bringing light back as stars in a velvet sky, easing the darkness of a dreary night. The Owl hoots merrily and soft feathers enfold the garden, a myriad of joys held in his wisdom. Warm night bringing sleep under a caring wing. His brother hawk dreams and waits for the day, his gaze intent and watchful. Brown angel of morning when stars fade, brining light with him as he cries mightily against the wind and takes flight, a heart leaping in Jublilation. Foxes dance in the pale dawn, laughing in jovial delights. Keen to see and ever vigilant, lightfooted and strong. Doves coo a symphony to the leaves. Callalillies grow in steady rhythm, bringing with them a healing salve. A fragrance of friendships, and what might be found, tilting it's petals in the breeze a tremor of happiness for being alive.

Lilacs weep thier song to the morning, a splash of color among the forgotten, covered in dew. Dear kitten plays under rose's leaves, chasing at bugs. she stops to sniff at it's sweet perfume before butterflies lead her astray. she plays in sunshine, warming her downy fur. Gorgeous, and with mischief in her eyes. Only distracted by ants worshipping her paws.

Wolves watch as others play. They hunger for companionship and only find swollen tounges as poison intended for others is taken into themselves. Bitter breath destroying the blooms they touch, lonely eyes lying as they beg others to come near. Thier only reward sharp teeth upon the tender lives they carry in the soft pulse of thier throats, a sacrifice for thier love, and for thier compassion. A weed choked by sand that swirls in a bonechilling wind, it clings hoping to find purchase, coming once more to rest among the dirt where it was from. Labrynthian veins weave through it's heart to find sustenance within. Wanting to be seen it desperately seeks the sun only to find reflections of it in the clouds. It's roots digging into the garden, looking only for it's own soul. Courage now found nly in the twists of a dragon's eye, the tears shed from the lustrous orb a feast of nourishment to this parched garden. the remnants of a beauty it used to know. Eagles watch, talons sheathed in compassion. Proud breast displayed as it finds likely prey. The tiger stalks through this garden finding shards of time, devouring them like so many dreams.

Where is the lonely griffon, a guardian to the heart of this place? He is in the reflections of a dream captured like so many photographs in the frgaments of a soul, teased away by the allure of a fleshly lover's arms. False breaths whispered in the night to lure love away from this room and it's forgetful glass. A soul waits in eternity for the return of warmth, for an ending to the torment of shards piercing sweet flesh. Thorns of time tear away all the pretenses, leaving only a fading memory of lips pressed together lovingly. Hands that hold in the darkness, and a whisper telling of the secret pleasures flesh hides, and of love found there.

Scout Sakaro
Community Member
  • [03/07/14 10:30am]
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