Reading harold_maude's journal

Once upon a time
before the rain
turning green into grey
I could see the spires
of gold and sliver
as they danced in afternoon light.

Once upon a time
before the harvesters
of life and peace
I knew wonder and amazment.

Now, once upon a time
has become dark and cold
the hollows of my heart
have become deep wells
of grief and pain.

There is no morning sun
only twilight now
hidden things
waiting behind
twisted trees.

It pulls and drags
rings dug in my soul
against my will
ripping me
as it shakes me
to and fro.

What gentle friend
would come and sit
with balm for my bleeding soul,
there is none.
For the strong
there is none
when they fall.

Wisdom calls
tells me to hide
among the trees
dark and wide.
Hide yourself
she says to me
hide your self
they are comming
still your voice
make shallow your breath
for in winter
it is what they look for
when they come to feed.

I cloak myself
wishing for winter to bring sleep
hoping spring's life
will find me better.

I realized this morning as I could feel so many things desend that if I could, I really would find a cave so I could rest, truely rest and regenerate.
I'm tired and exausted beyond words.

I'm becomming someone I don't want to be, just to survive.
It's like watching my own death, in a slow steady stream.

I miss the ocean. with all my heart. And there is really no one who I can turn to for anything other than them taking more than they will ever give back.
I'm loosing so much now, and all I can think of is that I want to be at the ocean, but financially it's just not possible right now.

Lay me down to sleep.
Tell me it's going to pass.
Tell my heart the grief will lift
and life will be bright again.

Lay my head on a pillow of time
and let the universe heal.
For the strong
there is no one
when they fall.

It only looks that way because your standing on your head.