- Books, Literature, and Writing
These days peace is my fury
So these days I find my hours filled and spurred on by fury.
The fire life flicks at us.
I believe in the red light this fire shines at me. Addressing every umbilical cord that has been attached to people, entities, angels and dreams that have held me firming into my self absorbed womb.
My place odd darkness and quiet. But I hear the hoof shuddering gallops coming my way and the ground rumbles; I know the battle is on its way it’s forming within its lines to the rules this war obeys.
You know I long for peace I have these children to raise. I have these leather straps that need to be sharpened and braided.
A rein made of the colorful cords that bind me to every past insult .Take these steeds these mares and cause them to dance for me. To march for this war of peace.
A white robed woman clothed in a glory no darkness can look upon without changing into lightness itself.
Staff yielding warrior. She reads the book and she believes she has seen the beginning and knows the end. She has become a master author to fulfill prophecy and the yielding of his spirit.
The spirit that has cradled the fears that have held the cords so tightly. The only man who could loosen the noose she allows herself to be choked by. Because there was no one to hold her tight. So he clothed her in this robe this robe of whiteness. The robe of fury and peace .To stand she finds herself. To stand for the purpose she has been being molded for. To hold to staff the rod of this righteous revenge.
Her hands get tougher to not feel the pain the reins of control have carved into the fabric of her flesh and soul. She screams with her rusty voice and yells it out into the abyss her steeds must run into. She cuts through the papers the papers that hold her truth until her staff is sharpened. Sharpened to the point of cutting the reins loose.
One by one the are dissolved and the colors go with them. The colors of resentment, chaos, and hate .The colors of festering blemishes that have blinded the beauty of white.... The chains are releases they are gone they fly off the cliffs. She yells to them once more she yells in her heated voice. She yells good bye and they yell back. Look we can fly…