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watl djato tvog az.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Drums
Drums keeping pounding in my head, begging, pleading, clawing desperately in a vain attempt to wake me up. I imagine her heartbeat is like a drum, and her voice like some babbling brook. I hold the dead bundle of flesh to my chest and sob to myself, so alone, so alone. I know my heart has not beaten for far too long, I know that my voice is like a crashing wave, with neither clarity nor grace.
But still the drums keep on their pounding, I would give Skarl a kiss if I could met him. I think it's some kind of defense mechanism, self-deprecation. You can accept words of praise with a smile, but deep down you cannot let yourself truly believe the kind words others say. I imagine her eyes are like wells, doors beyond space and time, little windows wherein eternity and the unknowable knowledge can be glimpsed. I hold my cup to my lips, and turn my nose up at the smell, but I still swallow it down, like a moth to flame, or a man to folly. But when I close my eyes and hear the drums, I can almost see her, sitting there smiling at me. I sometimes fantasize that she is the one playing the drums as I sing. Sometimes I picture her with war-paint and bright eyes, singing songs only Mother Nature can hear. Sometimes I see her in the ether, and I hope she sees me too.
The drums are like maps of the soul, explaining ever twist and turn of the human path, I think she is a totem or some shaman I have yet to meet. One day we will breathe in the smoke of the ether together, and we'll meet on the same island. We'll paint one another's faces and know that we were always the drummers.
Playing music only our hearts can keep time with, knowing no words are needed for us to understand, feeling the flow and ebb of the ether between our minds and our hearts. Spitting into wind and not caring when it slaps us in the face. Holding hands, but knowing all things pass. How we can truly say we are alive when we have never loved?
THWUMP, THWUMP, THWUMP, BWAM, THWUMP, THWUMP, THWUMP, BWAM, THWUMP, THWUMP, THWUMP!
Play on Skarl, I am not yet done dreaming, I will hold her heart in my hands. I will know her face by memory. I will sing her voice for eternity, and I will never let the music stop ringing out into the ether.
Drums, drums in the deep.
Drums, drums, in the heights.
Drums, drums, in the day.
Drums, drums, in the night.
But still the drums keep on their pounding, I would give Skarl a kiss if I could met him. I think it's some kind of defense mechanism, self-deprecation. You can accept words of praise with a smile, but deep down you cannot let yourself truly believe the kind words others say. I imagine her eyes are like wells, doors beyond space and time, little windows wherein eternity and the unknowable knowledge can be glimpsed. I hold my cup to my lips, and turn my nose up at the smell, but I still swallow it down, like a moth to flame, or a man to folly. But when I close my eyes and hear the drums, I can almost see her, sitting there smiling at me. I sometimes fantasize that she is the one playing the drums as I sing. Sometimes I picture her with war-paint and bright eyes, singing songs only Mother Nature can hear. Sometimes I see her in the ether, and I hope she sees me too.
The drums are like maps of the soul, explaining ever twist and turn of the human path, I think she is a totem or some shaman I have yet to meet. One day we will breathe in the smoke of the ether together, and we'll meet on the same island. We'll paint one another's faces and know that we were always the drummers.
Playing music only our hearts can keep time with, knowing no words are needed for us to understand, feeling the flow and ebb of the ether between our minds and our hearts. Spitting into wind and not caring when it slaps us in the face. Holding hands, but knowing all things pass. How we can truly say we are alive when we have never loved?
THWUMP, THWUMP, THWUMP, BWAM, THWUMP, THWUMP, THWUMP, BWAM, THWUMP, THWUMP, THWUMP!
Play on Skarl, I am not yet done dreaming, I will hold her heart in my hands. I will know her face by memory. I will sing her voice for eternity, and I will never let the music stop ringing out into the ether.
Drums, drums in the deep.
Drums, drums, in the heights.
Drums, drums, in the day.
Drums, drums, in the night.
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