A wise man once said "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." I was young then; undecided, Immature, fragile, but already broken. . . But i found a beacon of light shimmering in the center of an abyss that is my heart. She was shining with a soft wavering of light, Radiating warmth, Giving off sparks. But I was afraid. It was my first time to see something so beautiful yet unknown to me. I was afraid. . . I stood in place, Struggling to survive the coldness, Trying to close my eyes to see nothing, but nothing is synonymous to darkness. There is no difference between closing your eyes and opening it in pitch black darkness. Trying to empty my thoughts and numbing my feelings, I dreamt of the light. They say you'll only see something in your dreams when you see it in reality, but that light is my one and only reality. The light is near me, and there in that dream I can touch it, hold it, and never feel anything. Then suddenly, I was awake. A blinding flash struck my eyes. It was that light. It is is now in front of me, A flame floating in the emptiness. I tried to hold it, I felt pain, I was confused. I started befriending the flame, I told her I dreamt of her, But i never imagined her like this. She didn't answer. yet she went around me. I can feel her warmth thawing my frozen soul. I tried t touch her, only to feel the same pain I felt. I tried to look at her, I tried to understand her, tried to feel her slowly. She went still, and as I walk to the valley of never ending darkness, she was always behind me. She lit my path, She gave me peace, she assured me security, and that was the most beautiful thing that happened to me. And now I can hold her in my hands, with enough distance she is free with me. And i can now see this place with color and clarity. Love is like a flame, if you contain it it will die, free it and it will stay alive. Hold it too close and you'll burn yourself, keep your distance and you'll feel it's warmth and full glow.
Sunday morning. . . You'll hear oldies on the radio, while your woman cooks your microphone. The siren screaming "get away from here!" the Aud lang syne is in your ears, It changes overtime. The moment of silence is important, than a series of bombing for the innocent. . . The running chariot of insolence, heading it's way inside my head and blowing it! Saturday have just arrived, The nightly calm and lullabies. Yesterdays home is now long gone. . . my father shot himself with a two barrel shotgun. . . The moment of silence is important, than a series of bombing for the innocent. . . The running chariot of insolence, heading it's way inside my head and blowing it!
found some errors, will try to correct it in the future.
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