2.5.10
I am scared—utterly terrified. I am a blind man on the edge of a cliff, not even knowing that the fall ahead of me will be forever. I’m paralyzed by a system designed to care, without the actual means of doing so. And I will stay this way. Not, of course, because I intend to, but because I have to—I am FORCED to. I do not know what tomorrow holds in store for me, and I’m horrified by the future. How will I know if my life is spent? A morbid witness, I have seen as much as the Angel of Death herself. How then, do I not also wonder about everything I’ve always known? When life is consumed with death, how can I not puzzle over my own, or over every concept that is or about the matter? So much time spent mourning over frozen graves of names I’ll never forget…. When the bright morning comes I’m still left with a broken heart and memories of those who left. It’s intoxicating to drown in that much sorrow. And, of course, once you lose something you never can become the person you were before, regardless of how good or bad it may be. I am consumed with my own intoxication, drowning in the things that may or may not be. I fret over every detail, every possibility; left like a claustrophobic schizophrenic trapped in an elevator—not knowing if I’m going up or down, in or out, or if I’ll be stuck in this rut forever—frantically terrified of every second of it. When will I be free of my intoxication, of this morbid fascination that has chained me in its sorrows? Tired and weary, I wait for the freedom to come in the knowledge that is owed me.
-Serenity Elizabeth
2.05.2010
Rantings of an artistic mind...
2.5.10
I am a prisoner of my own imagination. Being blessed by artistic ability--thoughts, visions, words--has created a sort of infection in me among others. No longer do I render gifted, but different... exiled to be forever trapped in my own expressions. If brilliance is seen as madness, then what good is the gift? When it is wasted among those who cannot see, who cannot understand... what does the artist do in the dark hauntings of the night made so vivid by her perception? How do you explain an ocean sunset to someone who can only see the sand? Impossibility wounds the free spirit; breaks the wings of success to be hindered by over-qualification. Having a mind so unlike the rest, so unique, can be a blessing for years, until you find out that you are completely alone in that mind. No one can understand the surface of your emotions and cannot comprehend the waters of the deep chasm of your heart. Who do we look to in these times? When there seems to be none of the Earth that understands, do we search the universe to find that one soul, that one distant connection that for just one moment, one second, we are understood by a total complete stranger? Do we wander, looking through every heart of the elite to find a mind powerful enough to identify with us? If we find such a person, what, then, do we do once we part ways, exhausted from the life we never knew we were destined to create? When the journeys separate, where will we look to for comfort? The only answer that possibly makes any sense is God. But, after years of being misunderstood, can we even relate to Him?
-Serenity Elizabeth
I am a prisoner of my own imagination. Being blessed by artistic ability--thoughts, visions, words--has created a sort of infection in me among others. No longer do I render gifted, but different... exiled to be forever trapped in my own expressions. If brilliance is seen as madness, then what good is the gift? When it is wasted among those who cannot see, who cannot understand... what does the artist do in the dark hauntings of the night made so vivid by her perception? How do you explain an ocean sunset to someone who can only see the sand? Impossibility wounds the free spirit; breaks the wings of success to be hindered by over-qualification. Having a mind so unlike the rest, so unique, can be a blessing for years, until you find out that you are completely alone in that mind. No one can understand the surface of your emotions and cannot comprehend the waters of the deep chasm of your heart. Who do we look to in these times? When there seems to be none of the Earth that understands, do we search the universe to find that one soul, that one distant connection that for just one moment, one second, we are understood by a total complete stranger? Do we wander, looking through every heart of the elite to find a mind powerful enough to identify with us? If we find such a person, what, then, do we do once we part ways, exhausted from the life we never knew we were destined to create? When the journeys separate, where will we look to for comfort? The only answer that possibly makes any sense is God. But, after years of being misunderstood, can we even relate to Him?
-Serenity Elizabeth
2.03.2010
Roses Aren't Forever
6.22.05
I think the earth has shifted,
‘Cause I know my life has changed.
My heart it has been shaken;
Now nothing really feels the same.
The roses fall like shooting stars,
And I wonder which one is next.
The clouds are forming around me,
Into a storm I won’t forget.
So I’ll lay out in the meadow,
Let the lightning hit my chest.
Watch the moon break into pieces,
And the shores fall in the depth.
I’m afraid I have no reason
Why I sit, and without fear,
And watch my world just fall apart,
But there’s no hiding from what’s here.
The stars are bright and brilliant,
But tonight their charm won’t matter.
Let go of them as you did my heart,
And likewise they will shatter.
-Serenity Elizabeth
I think the earth has shifted,
‘Cause I know my life has changed.
My heart it has been shaken;
Now nothing really feels the same.
The roses fall like shooting stars,
And I wonder which one is next.
The clouds are forming around me,
Into a storm I won’t forget.
So I’ll lay out in the meadow,
Let the lightning hit my chest.
Watch the moon break into pieces,
And the shores fall in the depth.
I’m afraid I have no reason
Why I sit, and without fear,
And watch my world just fall apart,
But there’s no hiding from what’s here.
The stars are bright and brilliant,
But tonight their charm won’t matter.
Let go of them as you did my heart,
And likewise they will shatter.
-Serenity Elizabeth
Hello!
Welcome!! I have been writing poetry for about 9 years officially, and have been holding on to it in hopes of someday publishing my own poetry book. This is the bare bones of that dream. I will be posting my poetry and prose from here on out in order to get my work out there for others to read, enjoy, and give me feedback on. I do ask that all comments are constructive, as I will not tolerate abusive messages. I simply ask that you enjoy the work, and if you don't, tell me WHY. I look forward to sharing my work with all of you, and I hope you enjoy it!!
Literature is my escape from our world into one much more enjoyable. When I read, I fall into whatever I'm reading. I become a witness of everything occurring in the novel. I hope that my work does the same for you. May you be so captured by my words that they speak to your soul and heal your heart, intoxicating you with words so that you become completely consumed by them. Welcome to your literary escape. Relax, and open up to emotion.
Sincerely,
Serenity Elizabeth
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