Trapped

Though one may love, it does not bind. As though it is destined to never be one screams in the night in horror at never seeing again. Though given the chance to live, one greives. What about when living isn't enough? How do you keep on? With the jokes of a thousand men he braves forth as though never to return. Who says he will o' brave one. When given the chance he takes... When given the gift he soars as though given wings he flies into the hearts and minds of those who have little hope. And when he sees he continues forth, always looking back at what he left behind to keep on the ground. And she sees him flying high and as though bidden by hidden weakness. Wishing to love is not enough, says one in the dark, not enough to live. You must seize the moment like the halk flying high above the clouds. She sees him, and he sees her. They constintently watch eachother, loving silently. And hoping silently, for the day when all bonds are gone. The halk flying high wishes to come down out of the clouds for once and see the ground. "To see the ground..." he says "and to make a decision based on it, and not what isn't, is as torture. But if to do that is to love you then I will, for whom can deny that the torture of living without the girl on the ground, making all her decisions by the land, is more torture then to bear." An unspoken bond may have formed but that did not stop the girl from hiding, nor the hawk from leaving, for the sky of his comfort and denial of the girl, and the blood, on the ground. "Fly on little bird. You fly from hope." They murmer softly. But he does not. He flies for hope, onward and onward towards that bondless day. But, as all know, it will not bring the promise they all seek. The end does not bring joy, but a chance for such. For when one dies, does it not effect another? How can joy remain in the life of the hawk flying high above life itself when it is forced back down? Yes, he may land at times but only with the promise of taking wing again. For how can one of flight live in the darkness that is the life it is avoiding? The memories close in, threatening to suffocate him. To make him their own, to claim him... The bird will not be claimed! Peirce his soul with words and thoughts of the past and yes, they will harm him. But he will leave his battered soul, he will leave his broken life, and wing on towards ignorance. Though never truly ignorant is he, knowing that he will have to return weighs down his wings of fake humor, which he formed of thin air to suppress the pain. He is wiser than most as to insanity, for he knows how to prevent it. It is when he must return that true danger lies. For then he feels, in full, the pain that normaly can be ignored. And it kills him softly, slowly. Unoticed by all who love him, he is dying. And after he will never truly be the same, this is the fate that he avoids. He is pure passion, joy, madness, and anguish. He is at war. War with one's self is hardly one to be won. The hawk flying high, to peirce the face of insanity with the tip of his wing, is alone. Alone with his fears. He loves the girl on the ground. But to love her openly and commit to her... is to die. In the dark he lands, and thinks of his choice. Is it better to die for love, or better to live for the hope of love? The light is painful to him. To make a concious choice in front of the blinding light of judging freinds is as painful as to kill. Trauma? Oh yes he has trauma, but it does not show. For if it should show, the judgers would judge. Even though they love they are forced to judge. Part of why lies in that they love him. She loves him too, and always will. However, though one may love, it does not bind... For the hawk wings on. Escaping pain, escaping death, escaping love... Forevermore.

Matthew V. Libbings