Oh Fer Cryin' Out Loud » writing

A Flame To Last Within

zyriana — Fri, 11 Dec 1998 20:21:18 +0000

A Flame to Last Within

Written Sometime in 1998 By Zyriana

A candle is made of wax.

Within the candle is a wick.

Upon the wick there is a potential for flame.

The flame cannot exist without a spark.

The spark is only able to be ignited with your help.

The flame is dependent on you.

Picture the candle and all of it’s components,

and its future of a flame,

as our inner spirit.

The spark initiated by you and I,

can be only a simple question.

Without the questions there will be no warmth.

All you need to do is ask "why",

and the flame within will ignite

into a roaring fire with a wick as long as eternity.

~Zyriana~

Cascades

zyriana — Thu, 01 Jan 1998 20:01:06 +0000

Cascades, oh the ritual

Ease of the mind, till it doth cease

No sense of this I make of it

No release as of yet I see

Blind to fury forlorn

Dust of which I’m made

Take this blood I’m given

Break the glass I’ve known

No sense of this I make of it

No release as of yet I see

Can’t find my vision whilst taken in

These bars are what are keeping me

Is there an out within a grasp

Not here within alas poor soul

Father find me now

But how without a key

He knows what the answer is

For me there is none to see

No sense of this I make of it

No release as of yet I see

Cascades are rituals yet unknown

But blinded is how I see.

Written 4/01/1996 By Zyriana

Of Castles and Shadows (based on a dream)

zyriana — Mon, 01 Apr 1996 20:16:48 +0000

Of Castles and Shadows

Written Sometime in 1996 by Zyriana – Based on a Dream of the Same Time

The cobblestone steps are what I remember – grey in color and always so cold on bare feet. The rooms immense, but barely furnished, except for the grand pieces placed precisely where he wanted them. I remember I left something there….

Was it my essence I left? Would I still be roaming even now? Perhaps not, or I would surely know….

The windows had no glass. Now that I remember. The breeze from below, that is hard to forget….

The chill of the cold even as I slept. Now that I remember – but what was it I left…

It’s still there… the memory of the maroon color of life, flowing down the dark halls. It happened once, I was there, I know….

If you stopped for a moment, you could hear his steps. Was it fear that I left? No, no – that was not it, not that…

I remember pressing my hand to the walls – cobblestone and all, my fingers so long and elegant. Even with him behind me, and closing fast… I stopped for a moment, just to feel the coolness beneath my grasp….

It was ages ago, of that I know. The damp dark hallways were mine once. I roamed at night, there was so much to discover. I collected treasures and hid them away. But I left something there, not treasures, I have no use for those and surely would not be searching for such….

A ring perhaps? I had so many. Elegant rubies and emeralds, the cost I’ve no idea. But no, this is not material I left behind. It’s worth is more to me than that….

I remember the wails of a small newborn child, her name I’ve since forgotten. Was it her that I left? No… she came with me. Of this I know. He took her life too, in the shadows below….

What was it I left? It’s so important now. But I won’t know, not yet… it won’t come to me now.

If you see the shadows the castles cast, please look for me and find what I’ve lost. I’ll be there too, I journey there quite often – as I dream at night, and when my thoughts wander during the day – I travel there myself… to find what I’ve lost.