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Late Harvest

“For in the dew of little things, the heart finds its solace and is refreshed…” -Khalil Gibran

Ave!

Settled comfortably with a bowl of porridge, a brewing cup of Chai tea and nonchalantly speaking to Zabrina about various study methods, I write this reflective entry. I am not regarding my uni work which is waiting to be tackled, but soak in my own saturated emotions.
I don’t truly think anything has changed since last night and the day before, except a firm realisation to cut one’s losses, forbear and move on. What else can I do, but sift through the remnants of a battlefield (hence the name of the poem).

Now, resting on the outskirts
Of this bloodied battlefield
I watch smoke rise from the dead
And brush dust from my coat of arms;
My code of honour is steadfast
While Sun penetrates midnight shroud

Worn, threadbare, faces aghast in red
Leaden ravines choking the sapling rose
All thorns sinking into the flesh soil
And ever-seeking a common ground
‘Tis Perdition, your conjuration
Look what you have done!

Take these shattered urns
Of ashes charred and tainted
And repent! Thy hath no redemption
In my eyes and in my heart;
Exiled from your haven
I shall make my own cobbled pathway
As forgiveness is not yours for taking

I’ll be hand-making pizzas tonight which promises a bundle of fun, listening to the discordant hum of the LCD television, the thick whirr of the dishwasher and chill of early evening. Of course, my mother decided to take the liberty of buying tickets for me to go to a smoky club full of geriatric gamblers and homeless bogans (I would much rather stay and home working through the myriad of numbers that resemble my Statistics assignment). I can tell she is already impatient with me for my reclusiveness. There is not a problem with keeping to oneself when internal pains must be healed.
Let this not be an overwhelming misinterpretation of angst or uncontrollable sorrow, but a documented process of change, calculated and threaded with amateur hands. I am still grateful to all who have supported me during a turbulent time.

-Vale

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About this entry

Posted 2 years, 3 months ago. on 7 October 2006 in Digest.