The Fractured Light

  It is said that when a door closes, another opens. Given what we have seen, it is better if once a door closes, it and the rest remain fucking shut! We have also learned from dire experience, to keep abreast of windows. And yet we fear naught. A Paradox perhaps? Have no illusion, it's no delusion, we know exactly what is out there. The void. Empty, silent, barren, and unsustainable. Inside or outside, we are the stranger who walks you by every day. Such the fate of a Pariah, to walk always among strangers, and remain unknown to all.

 Few listen, fewer understand, so many times have we spread our wings to fly, yet fallen, like Icarus and many an angel. But we are nothing more than leaves in a storm. And so we fly after all.  Fight or flight has marked our path for so long now, and we have done both. Strategic retreat is crucial, ours best categorised as messy fallbacks after being overwhelmed and overrun by forces far beyond our capacity to confront. We stand and we fall as men of principle, in a world that cares for everything but. We stand for many things. And we fall for even more.

 Stray hound and stray cats, all so far, all so close, chains bound, anchors foundered. Foul winds, broken mast, ripped sails, blown rudder. Cold gusts blow through shattered panes, blood and water running through our veins.