My shadows of hope

She was a woman, in a land of wolves and yet, she did the best she could. Under the circumstances of her birth. She struggled life long with the hurt of seeing every man eye her like a piece of meat. Of the falseness of their smiles, as if sensing the fear that drummed inside her chest. with each heart beat. And she fought still, just to keep alive just to go on with her normal, everyday life. All she asked for in return was a place to be herself, to hide. But even that piece of heaven, to a woman, was denied. Because she is always someone else's problem. She was foisted onto someone else, if she fought them. She was someone else's daughter, wife or mother. Never was she allowed to become herself, to find herself, to see herself in the mirror, her potential. Instead she is kept locked away, and the keys are thrown away, to her utter dismay. She prays, oh how she prays, that someone will listen and life her up, off her knees, on these dismal days. She waits for no prince charmi...

The darkness may seem impenetrable, vast and dreary in it's scope. And you may seem like a prisoner, bound in the chains of your own making. But remember your own strength long forgotten and dormant. Sleeping within you to awaken at your merest command. Give it breath, let it rage, create an inferno to burn it all down. Remember, that a window exists, infinitesimally small though it be. Open it. Allow the light of the world to rush in and expunge this darkness. Let the light of your soul scour the tendrils of darkness from your soul. Hope exists, after all else fails. Hope breathes, after all else falls. Hope. At once strength and weakness. Hope. A weapon for the desperate. Use this weapon. Cut apart what holds you tight to the bosom of mother night. Break free, into eidolon dawn. The darkness may seem impenetrable, but you are no prisoner. And you are not lost. You are merely waiting to be found.

A brother once told me, that we could never die. Our heads could be taken but our bodies would not lie. No peace would come our way No heart would ever beat inside. Our blood could turn to dust No memories to leave behind. But death would never dog us, though he always walked by our side. A brother once told me, that we would never die. And God bless his rotten soul that brother had gotten it right.

I shall not be blind in the darkness nor shall I be lost in the storm. And neither shall the fell winds give me pause, battered though I be by wind and sea. I shall not give into despair nor be shackled by misfortune. A dawn needs blood to rise bold and crimson and I shall feed it more than it needs. The flag of faith shall not dip. Neither shall my belief in my purpose. I shall be the beacon in the stormiest of nights and wildest of seas. I am not alone, though betrayed and abandoned. I am not afraid, though bereft of hope and strength. I shall not give in, though body and spirit both decay. I am the thin red line in the sand. I am the sun, the rallying flag, the battle cry. So bring about the clouds, call to arms my foes. And when I stand, surrounded on all sides, I shall prove my worth that day. I shall prove that I am more than mortal. I am man.

In the name of Narcissus, who withered away face to face with an unattainable reflection of his own perfection. In the name of Hector and Achilles, and the thousands of warriors who died for what you had wrought between a prince and a princess. In the name of the thousands since who have flown off the roofs of tall buildings and consumed the foulest of poisons just to escape your bony grasp. In their names do I curse you today, love. May you forever be just a word. Meaningless. Always to be confused with lust and desire. Always to be spoken but never sincerely. May your adherents see your duplicity And may they bemoan their affliction. May you be the idle plaything of those with no hearts and no remorse. But all this bitterness of history that I bestow upon you and your name Is undone. Each time I look at a mother smile at her child When a father looks proudly at his offspring. And I know that my curse is ineffectual in the face of true love, whose nature knows no curse....

Was it love or hate that drove Mercutio to proclaim a plague  upon both houses even in the throes of death? Was it his looming end? His loss of innocence? His life unfinished and unfulfilled that drove him to speak those fateful dreadful words upon the houses? Was he the true sacrifice at the altar of love so that two star-crossed lovers could be immortalized by millions more? What state of fugue did that mortal wound upon his person drive Mercutio to? Or did, in his final moments, Mercutio see the future clearly? And what their hate would wrought upon the heads of those innocent lovers? And so, in seeing, wish pestilence upon those who would stand in the path of true love?