Amarth

My old work is so outdated by both time and my changing emotional state that I made a new thread ^_^.

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Truth flows through me like a morning mist that flows through my spirit, strengthening me.

Deception flows through me like an evening fog that clenches my heart tightly in its icy grip as it passes through me.

How can I be expected to tell the difference between a morning mist and an evening fog?

When the two flow as one in a soul that is timeless, how can I tell the difference between reality and fantasy?

I struggle vainly to resist the flow of intangible fog through my being.

How do I know whether I am fighting fog or mist?

Yin and Yang flow so constantly around one another, changing one another to perpetuate a vicious cycle of balance.

Does the Yin think it's Yang?
Does the Yang think itself the Yin?

How could I be expected to distinguish between two forces that can't even distinguish themselves from their opposites?

The only thing we have to help us along are the radiant jewels of truth that shine like stars in the darkness of the night sky.

I hold desparately to the sparse and sacred jewels of truth I have gathered, hoping that, if I protect them and nurture them, they will one day grow inside me and one day lead me to the light.

Amarth

Okay, this isn't literature as much as something I wrote while rambling in livejournal, but I thought it sounded deep. Then again, it's late and I'm tired. Maybe it is good, maybe it isn't. Oh well.

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I've got to, because, there /are/ people who expected it of me. There are people who are still rooting for me back at home. Their dreams rest on their shoulders. Do I bear their weight now... or drop them and let them rot in the path behind me? Which is more noble? It's not noble of them to put their dreams on me. I don't even know why I ask myself. I know what is right. I just... don't want it to be. I don't want to carry that weight any more. It's my responsibility I know. I know. I don't know. I know. I don't want to know. I don't want to believe it. ... ... But I know. If I leave those dreams to rot, the stink will fill my nostrils for the rest of my life. Their hopeful eyes will stare back at me every time I close mine. That's not even the reason I should do the right thing though. I should be noble out of fear. I should be noble because it's the right thing to do. The right thing. Right. I can do it right?

Amarth

Happiness is a curse to the artist's soul.