I am the angels that hold and surround you, I am the demon you're afraid to need. I am the temple that will bless and feed you, I'm the religion keeping you in chains
The thunder reaches down inside my bones, eating up all the empty places and filling them with something else instead. The thunder sounds like the roar of the lioness in my veins, who stalks, and stalks, and stalks. She is hungry, and yearning. I have nothing to offer her, now. So I keep going.
I go up, and up, as the clouds come in and devour the sky. It feels like a metaphor. It feels like the sky is only everything I have been trying to push away, and yet it comes. Ruthlessly, unfailingly, even undesired, it comes.
Soon all will be pitched in darkness, and scoured by the storm.
The thunder bares its teeth again, and in front of me appears a man. Upon his back he wears the stars but his eyes are dark like the clouds. I stop, and he stops, and we are staring at each other in this clearing on the mountain with silence between us and something other inside us and the storm converging over us.
I think I almost recognize the sharp things he is trying to hide.
“Misfortunes are less sharp when shared with others,” I say somewhat cryptically. I don’t quite sound like myself. I am not sure if I am speaking of the storm that rumbles, and groans, and claws its way over our heads, or something else. “Still, I was not expecting the company,” and I do not know why I am here, in the cold and the snow.
The last time I climbed this mountain it was upon a path to a temple, which I left with no more answers to the questions I had than when I arrived. I prefer to think of the time in the storm, in the snow, and that bear. That bear with eyes like mine, that had not seen another winter. I had been different then, hadn’t I been?
"Speaking."
I go up, and up, as the clouds come in and devour the sky. It feels like a metaphor. It feels like the sky is only everything I have been trying to push away, and yet it comes. Ruthlessly, unfailingly, even undesired, it comes.
Soon all will be pitched in darkness, and scoured by the storm.
The thunder bares its teeth again, and in front of me appears a man. Upon his back he wears the stars but his eyes are dark like the clouds. I stop, and he stops, and we are staring at each other in this clearing on the mountain with silence between us and something other inside us and the storm converging over us.
I think I almost recognize the sharp things he is trying to hide.
“Misfortunes are less sharp when shared with others,” I say somewhat cryptically. I don’t quite sound like myself. I am not sure if I am speaking of the storm that rumbles, and groans, and claws its way over our heads, or something else. “Still, I was not expecting the company,” and I do not know why I am here, in the cold and the snow.
The last time I climbed this mountain it was upon a path to a temple, which I left with no more answers to the questions I had than when I arrived. I prefer to think of the time in the storm, in the snow, and that bear. That bear with eyes like mine, that had not seen another winter. I had been different then, hadn’t I been?
![[Image: 13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png]](https://file.toyhou.se/images/13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png)
a war is calling
the tides are turned
the tides are turned
