The tidings Magpies bring

[Sepia]

Here is summer, decaying, dying. Here is summer, suffering from entropy, here is a cube of ice in a glass of whiskey, here is the scent that followed the centuries, that we pick up on again and again, here is death, autumn will come soon and winter. We will have forgotten the feel of summer's touch but we will yearn for it anyway like we yearn for something else we don't know, a siren song inside our hearts and sometimes we hear it, late at night or at the library or as we sit in the toilet, we hear it when the silence wraps us into a cocoon with no contact, only aloneness, that is when we hear our song. Some read it, some see it on the daytime telly, some in a bottle of scotch, others in a joint but our song was not made be sung in the same way and the song itself becomes background noise

Some say it's intuition that is our soul, the gut-feeling, the emotions, putting the mind and rational thinking to be void of soul, something of an empty shell, a broken husk doesn't remember his song because he tried to find it and he'd forgotten many things he knew in a young age, perhaps a to young age but the song is wailing further into it, this, this matter we can't really hold but only see, feeling that if we could get the jump we might be able to grab a hold and tear off

the chrome and the yellow, the tapestries, the frescoes, the billboards the images what do they hide behind closed doors

All we wanted was to be kings, to know the secret order of the world, to know how things were built up, how they were created and why why why, the eternal question, the defining question of our race if we were to talk about our good sides and we do for we are nothing but children, I keep forgetting how young we are, how young we've always been, how it must feel to be old, watching summer decaying do you feel the same thing then? Do you think it yourself, that this is you, fading from view, growing more silent in this world, should we embrace madness as it passes us by or should we shun it like an old friend from high school, clingy then and clingy still or should we remove ourselves from our soul and think it through

I have most respect for those who commit suicide by shooting themselves in the heart

[Eve Hill]

Oh wow. You hit it out of the park with this one.   


I especially like this part

All we wanted was to be kings, to know the secret order of the world, to know how things were built up, how they were created and why why why, the eternal question, the defining question of our race if we were to talk about our good sides and we do for we are nothing but children, I keep forgetting how young we are, how young we've always been, how it must feel to be old, watching summer decaying do you feel the same thing then? Do you think it yourself, that this is you, fading from view, growing more silent in this world, should we embrace madness as it passes us by or should we shun it like an old friend from high school, clingy then and clingy still or should we remove ourselves from our soul and think it through

I have most respect for those who commit suicide by shooting themselves in the heart

[Sepia]

Thank you Eve Hill, your words are most kind.

[deadfong]

I agree.  Those last two paragraphs really resonate.  Simply amazing.