Disclaimer: as seen in my other stuff…nope, don't own it.
Note: THIS IS THE EDITED VERSION – Yes, my precious child shall live again! So I replaced the parts of this that should be there with my interpretation of what they meant to me. So the parts in italics are thoughts. Who's thought's they belong to is up for anyone's own interpretation (whether they belong to the characters or to me – both would be right).
The inspiration for this is when I was thinking about how it must feel to know that your god is nothing more then a man. I, myself am religious, but I hold no judgment or animosity to anyone else for what they believe. I try to be very open minded and it's very hard to offend me.
Warning: I'm not a poet…Ah, I really hope I don't mess this fic up.
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The path of life is a hard one to take. Despite all that is known and all made mistakes. Losing the fight to move on, wanting to run and hide. Confusion and sorrow replace certainty and pride.
Nel stood alone under the watchful dusk. Her toes rested inches away from the edge of a cliff. Below her cries echoed as the ocean's wet fingers clawed the jagged rocks. She faced the west and watched as the sun made its decent into the dark abyss beyond the unforgiving ocean.
Not a single tear escaped her eyes, though her soul withered and wept. Her hands did not dare tremble as they hung at her sides. What she felt was nothing. A nothing so vast that it had swallowed all of existence, only existence hadn't realized it yet. The people who were at home merely did as needed done. No one realized that the end was over. The story had finished and the plot was pointless.
Her breathing was paced to match an effortless rhythm. As the ocean consumed the sun's last light, Nel closed her eyes. The wind whipped her damp hair, causing it to beat her cheeks relentlessly. Small red marks appeared and lived shortly on her pale skin before vanishing; just to reappear by the wind's harsh actions.
She made no attempt to move the hair from her face. The minuscule sensation was necessary to her. It reminded her that she was alive. It told her that she was real. It nagged her to keep going despite the pain that dwelled in every fiber of her spiritual being.
Day fades to night and night back to day. The world keeps turning; but please don't turn away. Not all scars can be healed. Not all battles won. No one will hear a desolate cry when all is said and done.
Though surrounded by people, Nel was completely alone. She merely masqueraded as who she had once been. They saw her as a hero. She saw them as puppets. They were ignorant children who covered their eyes in unawareness. Her weakness was her inability to rip away their blindfolds. Instead of teaching them the truth, she had led them further into the dark. The truth was hers and she would not burden others with its knowledge.
She envied them immensely.
Stand up – hold hope high. Life won't stop and it won't just pass by. Things work a loop of emotional filament; mixing the untainted with wrong. A new day spawns a beginning that can feed the meek to build a stable dawn.
He had been standing sheltered in the shadows for hours. The newly night sky kissed his slender frame. He hadn't grown weary, but was filled with inspired strength. The sight of a power such as the one before him held him fast to his spot and kept him content and still.
He had been watching the red head continuously. Her stature remained unaffected by the wind. Her legs could stand and support her to no end. Her head was held high to the sky. She shone of pride and radiated of an unbound strength.
His admiration for her had only deepened. He had sought many times to rob her of her energy, just to have her rebound to no end. She would hold her ground and move for no one. As the same was with him, but where she was strong he was stubborn.
He didn't hide from her the fact he was there; but for reasons beyond his grasp, she had yet to confront him. He anticipated the encounter which would bring sweet acid from her tender lips. Her boldness countered his and he would wait indefinitely for such a prize.
Sooner would he cut his tongue from his mouth then to utter his true feelings. He idolized her in truth and taunted her in jest. He was the tide, she was the shore and his inner sacred thoughts were the force that pulled him to her.
Ardent bonds bring life to a stop. Others may pass on by without a single thought. Actions can not be taken back. What is lost is forever sought. A simple tear is all that is needed to rip apart the sane. Blaming one's self are motions to detain. The fault of tragedy is branded to the heart. But understanding is never a fleeting pain.
The habits of years spent and wasted kept his lips from trembling. Long had his tears gone away, leaving him empty and dry. Uncertainty had made its home within him. His façade was un-cracked but his soul was broken. He acted on the instinct of a cold heart filled with fear.
The secrets of who he really was remained a mystery even to him. Refusal was his friend and denial his lover. To acknowledge his inner demons would sacrifice all he had worked to build. Defeat would be suicide. He treaded in the dark and welcomed the inability to see clearly.
Day fades to night and night fades away. Turning over a destiny – come what may. A twist of fate, wounds can cut so deep. No one will hear sorrow's cry when it hangs it's head to weep.
She had known of the presence behind her from the moment he crept on her. She knew he was close but far enough away to be distant. She dare not confront him for fear he would leave. Her faith had failed her. Her heart betrayed her. Her mind rejected her. She hated who it was she forced herself to be. She was her own weakness; he was her strength.
She longed for the innocence she had lost. She prayed…no, she no longer prayed. She had sent her right to pray straight to the grave. There was no one beyond life to welcome her home. She had been lost her whole life but had clouded it by a false destination.
Behind her stood what she wished to be. She knew he was there; and though she would never admit such, she idolized him. Surely he could see past her shell. Her vulnerability was evident but he was solid. She wished to be more like him. His words were convictions and his thoughts absolute.
Standing tall as pride would have it be. Never wanting to fall, set the soul free. Determination set in a grip strong and tight. Today's embrace is felt though not in sight.
When all was said and done, he had returned to himself. To who he was before. She had lost herself somewhere along the way. No repair could patch her back to a fraction of who she had been. Hope seemed futile and faith was a fairy tale. His strength was unbound and never ending. Her spirit was fragile and on the verge of shattering.
The stone was shattered, the way was lost. No payment rendered except the ultimate cost. What was once seen true is now confirmed a lie. Contemplations merge and certainties die.
They had just returned from the journey that would alter their lives forever. Sitting in a tavern those nights ago, they had debated the origins and truth of religion.
He spoke endlessly of how futile the whole practice was. A worthless pass time of the weak and narrow minded. He boasted of how a man needs only believe in himself and there-in find and make his own way in life. He argued that a divine source could not control his actions and that destiny was a figment of a madman's imagination.
She countered him with the hope and will a faith can bring. Even if it was all a matter of the mind, it was enough to make the sick well and keep the depressed from suicide. Faith made good men better and gave bad men guilt. Believing in an unseen force was not narrow minded but a broader perspective of life.
The debate had lasted well into the next morning. Each spoke their mind but never once pushed the other to convert. He talked without raising his voice and she spoke with respect. Each had enjoyed the whole conversation, though neither would show nor say such.
The debate ended when she asked him one question as she walked away. "We know who made us…but who made them?"
It's a fragile hope that guides the way. Who will look back at the fallen day after day? Scars can be covered but never undone. Others will pass right by, overlooking the things they shun.
She broke her trance and allowed her eyes to see the darkness that radiated over the cliff in stead of seeing through it. She slowly brought her mind from the emptiness it had buried itself in. She turned slowly, afraid to blink her eyes.
He watched as she moved for the first time in hours. The sounds of the ocean blended with the wind as her stare fixed on him. He took a step toward her, unaware of the earth that moved under his feet.
Holding onto what is inside us all. A new day has come, there's no need to stall. Stand firm on what makes this life worth the tribulation. A strong heart can come to a promising revelation.
She met him half way.
Her strength looked down at her from behind his crimson eyes.
His strength strewed up to him from her brilliant green orbs.
As if led by a mutual impulse, they locked. Her arms held tight to his waist. His arms draped off her shoulders and to the middle of her back. She buried her head into his chest and cried freely. He turned his face away from her and allowed his own tears to fall.
Time won't stop, it won't be subdued. Why waist it way on a futile feud? In the hands of the willing comes a path sworn to apprehend. Some wounds may never heal, but a spirit can mend.
End
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Sometimes what others see in us isn't what we see in ourselves.
I hope this version kept the original meaning I intended. I liked my original better but I couldn't give up on this.
If worst comes to worst and I just messed the whole feel of it up then I can always redo it again and replace it. I'm really not that great of a poet