Shattered Oblivion's blog: "Poetry, mayhaps?"

Y'know, there will always be a certain time,

When everything is hopeless,

You are at you lowest,

When the pain is just unbearable.

 

Pain, sorrow, loss, agony,

All of which,

Can lead to your own self-destruction.

 

When it is unbearable,

It is just far, far too easy to...

 

Say that you've had enough.

 

To scream and shout,

Maybe even consider a swift end.

 

Pain can be so extreme,

It can be so very excruciating,

That you feel nothing at all.

 

Creating a blackness in your heart,

An impenetrable darkness,

That blocks out your light,

And snuffs the flame of your will.

 

Sorrow can be so very deep,

That it chills you to the bone,

And freezes you from the inside-out.

 

Loss can shatter the world you know it,

And agony can rend your will from its roots.

 

Though light and love has a way of stepping in.

 

Just when you are at your lowest of lows,

Light will sneak through the cracks of the veil of darkness.

 

Splintering and shattering the pain,

Melting and eliminating the sorrow,

Catching you when agony rends your heart.

 

Love can come from the most unexpected of places,

Be it a family member that just knows you so well,

A lover that stands by your side,

A friend that has never failed you.

 

For every one of the pains that life brings, 

It also brings a chance of redemption,

A chance to free yourself.

 

You feel things such as pain for one reason,

To make yourself the best you can be.

 

Afterall, what doesn't kill you will make you stronger.

 

Even if you want so badly to do it,

To use that blade and make you life's light dim.

 

To just up and quit,

End the pain by no longer feeling,

By releasing your soul from it's mortal shell.

 

Even if you want to do this,

You will hesitate,

From lessons you wanted to learn,

Pieces of the puzzle of life you so badly want t put together.

 

The what ifs that circle your mind,

The pain you know it will cause your loved ones,

The fact that you know that it will only get as bad as you let it.

 

It is your choice afterall,

To feel the way you do.

 

Everything in your life is a choice.

 

Every single thing that happens,

Happens because you let it happen.

 

Anything in this world that you aspire to be,

All you have to do is have the will,

And you will become anything you want.

 

Everything you feel,

You choose to feel it,

Be it the loss of a loved one,

Or the mind-numbing pain of a shattered heart.

 

You choose to feel this way,

Not only that,

You choose to move on when you do.

 

It is as simple as it sunds,

Merely because of a single fact of life.

 

Everything is simpler than it seems.

 

The hardest questions in life,

Are only so hard because you overcomplicate them.

 

In stead of finding the answers right before your eyes,

You look through the marred glasses of,

Your emotions that drive you.

 

Rather than stoppig and thinking,

You act before you can truly understand,

You scream without knowing the full etent of pain,

You lead yourself to believe that your heroes in life are immortal.

 

Why not calm your heart?

Calm the torrent of emotions that,

Flood your senses and cloud your mind.

 

You are making your only chains,

You make these chains so heavy and impossible to break.

 

Yet you are the only one who can break them.

 

There is a pain with silent screams,

A path leading through the briar.

With a source of light at your side,

Any darkness or hurdles seem insignificant,

From the encouragement and love,

Of the source of light.

 

Now, what happens when that light deserts you?

 

Darkness unfolds once more,

Taking away any chance at seeing your way.

 

Now you are blind,

Left to stumble around in the dark,

To trip and fall and  be left spinning.

 

Until you hit something solid.

The bottom of the hole.

 

A place where no cries are heard.

 

There's a time of silence,

When realization of helplessness strikes.

 

There are other lost in the darkness all around you,

Their voices are trapped and muted,

Leaving you to believe that you are all alone without your light.

 

What you do now is important,

An act that can make or break you.

 

Do you have the strength to be your own light?

 

To take on the challenges in front of you,

To use your will for something you only think you can do.

 

Can you light your way?

Can you leave the abyss?

Can you stand on your own?

 

This is a matter of heart and will,

That can decide whether your bend or break.

 

A decision that all left in darkness must make.

To most people the heart is a reassurance that there is life,
Each heartbeat meaning that perhaps you are safe,
Safe from the rigid, sharp blades of the world.

Who is to say that this beating heart may have it's pace quicken,
Merely by the chance at seeing someone.

Is this that fiddle player love?

The one who plays gentle soothing melodies with the strings of your heart,
Or even almost painful torrents of notes all together.

Ah, but isn't the heart a resemblance of this fiddle player?
Isn't the heart the mere foundations where love resides?
Or is love merely something to preoccupy the heart?

Is it not the beating heart of a lover that reassures you as you are drawn near,
Led to believe that all is well and will continue to be so?

Is that the meaning of the heart?

What happens when that lover becomes a source of pain,
One of which makes this lover almost unable to bared any longer?

Is that when the fiddle player has finally drawn the last few, sorrowful notes?
The ones that signify the end of a dance for your heart,
Be it a waltz or any dance at all?

Yet the heart will do it again,
It will quicken it's pace as another comes only to your mind.

Is this when you are supposed to surrender to the fiddle player and try once more?

Your heart will rise to the occasion to try and makes ends meet with this new song,
Attempting to draw in the focus of you eye.

Perhaps this time you are being contented by drawing this lover into your arms,
Hearing their heartbeat,
Taking in their alluring warmth.

It is this time when they are taken away from your grasp,
Taken away as to never be given to you again.

This is when the fiddle player's string's break, but the fiddle player still attempts at song.

What good is a fiddle missing a string,
The string of which draw together your heart?

Only now does the fiddle player have notes that screech and are played out of tune,
Shattering what seems to be the glass walls of your heart,
The shards cutting away at it's very foundations.

Even battered and bleeding,
The fiddle player will continue its work.

Waiting for the next victim of its songs.

There are times where the world is spinning,

Relentlessly and out of control.

Taking you into a whirlwind of emotions,

Love, Hate, Happiness, Despair..

Inevitably one is lost in darkness,

The calm before the next storm,

Be it a storm of good or bad,

If you could call a storm either.

The calm is a time to stop and reflect,

And that is when lessons are to be learned,

Mistakes forgiven,

And for you to collect the shattered remnants of yourself,

To place then back together,

To find out where you actually want this or that piece,

Or where each piece belongs.

Just like every calm,

It is before yet another storm,

One that can make or break you,

Or both.