RolePlayGateway?

AN: This is an idle musing of mine. The idea was for it to be the spirit of Utopia wandering this scape of fallen man. I think I had intended to kind of merge poem and short story, but I think I began to trail off at some point. And it may have a similar tone to another thing I posted on here called "Serenity." That's because I was writing them basically simultaneously, and the concepts converged a little, and I just sort of abruptly ended it when I realized it was losing cohesion. So... feedback?

Humanity, so beautiful, so baneful, now a hollow relic, a smile and a cry, both I've known in terror and delight, all I've known is human and humanity is ubiquity, yet now I am consumed, the dawn no longer beholden to me, in isolation I am tortured with that which I could never forget.

Had you known me brother man, your silent guardian to your own venality? Had you truly ever seen the dawn, dear brother, that scintillating beauty, which captures the heart and mind? Perhaps on another distant eve, the dawn could eclipse your sin. But that is not your heart, brother man; I have seen that terrible truth.

I have walked Gaia?s shores, and seen her children?s folly. I have walked at soldier?s side, seen the error of his pride. I have walked upon red beaches, the dead lay on cold Earth, frozen faces of fear and rage, a thousand years, with nary a change. Men charge to their deaths, for freedom, and honor, and all the rest. Did you truly forget me brother man, had you forgotten our noble quest?

Surely did the eagle know, soaring so high, a brilliant vision, a dazzle of blue, white, and red. Oh, so did the eagle ascend, upon bloody steps it may be true, but what did not have that ascetic price? Life and liberty, what other image could ignite the mortal soul with such fervor? Beautiful, a dream founded by the oppressed, but corrupted by the oppressors, as it goes. And so the eagle begins to resemble another eagle, one of gold and crimson?after the fall of yet another eagle, one clad in red, white, and black?

So the story goes, brother slays brother, blind with greed and passion, ideals and colors consume the common truth that men and gods have spoken of throughout our history, that there is a humanity of man, a brotherhood, and should you look unto your brother, and see your foe, you are truly lost? Then could we all be lost?

My sorrow, my great sadness that my dear brother, was so blind in himself, that he would forgot the meaning of our dream time and time again? As children we would explore of horizons so marvelous, and we would swear to make them ours, but time?s tenebrous hand, would always bring them crashing from grace, so often into the demon?s maw. And yet there was a crueler fate to befall them, the demon would tear them from me before their time, and all I could do was offer small comforts where they would allow.

I do remember one, if I know the meaning of the word, she may be one, she may be all, a whole is what I see. She was a gentle flower, slain before her bloom, but in her, I was so bright before our union?s tragic doom.
She dreamt of love, she dreamt of life. Lovely flower, by the river she?d sing me songs, our dreams became a melody, where I and her could be free. She wanted to be a star, shimmering in the sky for all to see, a sight she would have been, a beauty she had been.
Flaxen hair and a smile not unlike the dawn, little sister, frolicsome flower, I may live in death, but the memory of my time with you takes me from the place for precious moments.

My heart is heavy in remembrance of the remainder of this tale, the demon lurks in hearts of men; its dream to destroy mine, a vile lust it spawns, for many iniquities. A hole my dear brother tore in her, and her dreams were mired in terror. She embraced me for deliverance, for a time we could still be free, but her tormentor, and time, dreaded time, turned her thoughts to poison and her heart to ice. Thirteen years was all it took, thirteen years, I was forsaken to her, as was life.

Her song is one I hear and one I?ve heard, time and time again. She would have made an exquisite star. Must the innocent always pay for my failure?
Raven hair and stark brown skin, fear, too much fear, the only dream we had was an end to the madness, a simple solace for kin terrorized by those who purport to protect them, a clean, quiet place to live, simple and prosperous, yet even this dream did fall, when she fell, not by her hand, but by a brother, as it always must be, clad in green and damned in red, a three sided rainbow flows above, eagle still flies high.

Eagle, lion, noble beasts, corrupted in your majesty. Where did our dream go awry, brother man? Was it ever in the right? Could it have ever been? Had the demon not consumed you, brother man, could the dawn have risen? I walk your ashen cities, silent, not a sound, a severed ghost, a meandering broken dream. Yet visions of Eden lost, still echo throughout these ruined halls, this testament to the failings of my brother, and the failings of me.
Broken twisted steel, crumbled concrete, there is no life here, no dreams. Yet I see new life in old, man coursing through the streets, metal machines, spewing death, at every corner every curve, a time of decadence, where the blind lived in demon?s shadow, decadent and ignorant.
My brothers all, each and every, how I loved them despite themselves, how I dreamt of their ascension, how I knew the dawn would find them? Was the dawn a lie??

Another I knew, one I could never forget, a man of green, once he had been a man of gold, woe for his soul, an undying destroyer it seemed, he lived from beginning to end, a conqueror, a lion, presiding over the realms of men. I was but a tool to him, our dream was dead in him.
In days long past, he was king and lord, sometimes god, but always a god of men. Again, and again, by sword and shot, with guile greed, all while the mother bleeds. Through, division, disparity, and empty ideals, he would damn the brotherhood, and all our world. Woe for the Tsars, and Sultans, and CEOs, woe for the common man whose pain is not his own.

I had seen great structures built on backs of slaves, in desert, forest, and cityscape, some with whips, and some with chains, some with paper, and idle brains. Though the most fertile slave, as I?ve known, is one whose will is all his own, whips and chains will move the hand, but nothing is stalwart like the will of a man. A slave unknowing is a sad sad thing, but many we?d known in days of sin.

Slaves, were we all but slaves? Had the demon been ruler before dawn?s first ray? When the lion encroached, was it all but a game? A game of death, a game of despair, all in vainglorious illusion? so much despair lion, why so much, could you not feel the angel?s touch?

Machetes, and swords, machine guns, and solaris, yet void symbols were your greatest weapon. Hammer and sickle, swastika, and star, yet gold and paper ruled them all. The true rulers knew not their name, just gods and kings without claim.

Proletariat, man without voice, always did you bow and take the sword when offered, but so rarely did you rise, and cast that same sword aside. In that action, our dream could have began its ascent, yet now it lies in ashes, your sword still erect.

Dreaded instrument of the dead, how many forms had you taken; how much misery had you sewn? So tired I am, of wandering this place, yet there is no end.
Demon do you laugh at me, that malevolent cackle from the depths of erebus? Do you find pleasure as I admire your work? Is the sorrow of this old obscured fool, a demented delight for you? Oh, how you always laughed as I wept. Yet without you, what would I have been? You defined me, and in the end you destroyed me, but you were them as I was, does this hatred stem from from you or my brother? I cannot know. What could be known? How ironic, that even I have fallen to sin, the sin of hate, what more but greed had crushed our dream?

Hate, virulent, all-consuming, for the mad, the wicked, and of course the blind, blinded are all in its midst. Marching feet, march through the street, hide dear child, tuck in your head, know for you, there is no sin, the damned are those you fear. And if you fall, know this dear child, your brothers shall not know you, do not blame them they are blind, do not hate them?hatred will consume, know please dear child you are remembered, by this one forgotten fool.

Machetes, cudgels, cyanide, women and children, men and dogs, vile is hatred in heart of man. Fire and blood, mangled corpses and twisted souls, eagle stands proud on perch so tall, its death a distant shadow? hide dear child I will never forget, I could not if I wished. Why must it always be so? What crime had they done but live?

Little boy on a train, don?t be afraid, go quiet and go soft, there will be peace for you in time. To halt this madness, I would give my all, but I am only you, and if I am you I must be them, you must surely hate me. I wish I had the power, but my power is not mine, you must bear this suffering for a time, and dream of better days. I promise you it will be over, when the new dawn should rise.

Never would the new dawn come, never, and what truly was the dawn? I cannot remember, there is no dawn in this place, the sun does not rise, nor does it fall?this is Sheol. Did I cause this? Is this the fruit of the dawn!? Was it the derangement of our dream that caused this, dear brother, could you have made this abyss without me? Is this utopia?s ultimate end?

No? the dawn was more than just a collective spectacle. The dawn was a singular beauty as well. The dawn was love and light, the dawn was a warm embrace, and a comforting face. The dawn was unity and hope, even when surrounded by dark, never did the dawn truly fade, always was there splendor in a cherished smile and a lost soul saved. There was always something to balance the dark. There was more to the world of men than sickness.

How I wish for sickness. I would rather be consumed in flame than suffer this dreaded silence for another moment, but there is no salvation in this place, nothing, just grey ruin, no light of day, no morning dew, no singing birds. What greater torture could you have dispensed demon!? If there is no dawn here, why do I still linger? What am I without dawn? Must I be forced to dwell on my fallen brother, every sight; I see another, another I knew as if we were one, all is one and one is all, many knew this, none listened, yet slave to the truth I was.

Truth, was it rightly that, or just chimerical musings?an infantile dream? Was I champion of fools? What was truth truly? Reality is a perception, as was all in minds of men. Does the dawn still lay in heart if I?d simply search, or is it lost for true? Fallen hero I am not, here I lay in gloom, yet fallen I am surely, bound in utopia?s doom?

Source: http://feeds.feedburner.com/RolePlayGateway

weight watchers rawhide bigfoot sandra dee twilight zone december 21 2012 mayan calendar