Somthing is floating, wildly, in the air -- somthing intangible, but it still rests inside me. I am held back.
There is a shining bell that rings today,
Polished and glamorous, it rings with conviction unheard of,
Let your false hope and stagnant prayer be shed,
For this day a shining bell rings, with yet unheard of conviction,
Shed your skin, like the snake in winter,
There is a shining bell that rings today.
The tears shed on this day are silhouetted,
Only by the promise of a new dawn’s majesty;
The gentle whisper of November snow;
The roaring jubilance of September rainfall;
The livid fury of a thunderous Summer storm;
These things overshadow pain; absolute and in full,
The petty troubles of yesterday’s pain are but a blue memory,
In the face of such Godly splendor.
A solemn widow looked upon a melancholy daybreak,
Through the stained glass window was a single beam of light,
Her husband perhaps? One cannot depend on mere wishes to provide
But still this ray of light is quite bright,
And perhaps to walk through it is to feel the tight embrace of her lost love’s lips,
Or to walk though it is to feel nothing; nothing at all.
Will she let fear define her life?
A lonely remainder this may be, if such fear should claim her very existence; if such hesitance should strike her,
In these last days of thought and brooding.
INT. DINING ROOM. -- EVENING.
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