Dream.

Snow had just began to fall.

The streets were quiet, tranquil. He looked out through behind foggy windows, admiring the beauty of the moment. He felt a tug, turned around and a smile greeted him. Into eyes green he fell, a place he thought he could never be. And he didn't belong.

Out the door into the cold, his hand gripping his tightly, skipping along the path, the crunch of snow and dirt sounding almost musical as they walked along. The smell of candy, mint and fuel filled the air, somewhat comforting as he waited outside while he, grinning widely, skittered through the store, every once in a while glancing back at him, beaming then again, wildly distracted by such happiness, turned to grab more.

Lugging big white bags of treats, gifts, they stopped by the edge of the forest to watch the snow fall. He stared up, wide eyed in awe at the sky just watching, feeling. A tear formed and he looked down. As it fell, he said,

"I miss mom."

I didn't know what to say or do. The smoke from my cigarette gently wisped around me as the wind, indecisive and free blew everywhere.

"I know kiddo. I'm sure everyone misses her too."

I saw him look up at me from the corner of my eye, but didn't meet his gaze. What should I say? What could be said when such hope and comfort are taken away?

"You know, she loves you. No matter how much the world can spin out of control, no matter how dark your days can get, even when it seems like it's so impossible to go on, she will always, always love you like she always has. And she always will."

It seemed silly. But he grabbed me suddenly, hugged me tight and didn't let go for a long time.

My heart skipped one too many times, it was a wonder how I managed to keep my hand from shaking as I held him close. It turned cold, my heart did, as if frozen, hard, the chill in my chest burned somehow.

Then we turned to walk back, back to her.

I felt lost just then. The sister, brother, family that I didn't belong to.

Ticks

I love my family in England.

Why?

Because I know they exist.

General Winter

Since war and the fight for power began, many have tried, most have failed.

Russia.

Land of mass mystery and illusion.

I'll be honest and say, well, you can tell by previous posts.

What made them who they are? Spirit, strength. Something a lot of people do not realize offhand. They were cold, hard, unmoving, relentless, divine, strong, believed, had intense faith, and stood united, more than any other country could ever be. When war came to their country, time and time again, they fought for the right to live, even though their losses were heavy, insane almost, ghastly. But they kept pushing right through till it broke the back of the enemies, shattering everything in their path. The strength of a Russian is unmeasurable, it extends beyond our imagination, and what fuels it? It's just who they are.

And this has helped me through my own life time and time again. And recently so, it has brought new meaning to me. Through our lives, the difficulties we go through bog us down till we can't move to help ourselves. But adopting the spirit of Russia itself, despite the cold, despite the pain, despite the losses, we must simply, press on. For the goal lies beyond, further than our minds eye can see, but we must believe, as one, as a whole, together, we must take those small steps moving forward to that place. The reward is infamy, peace and an awe at such valor in the face of ruin. With a roar, a charge and a voice that will ring throughout eternity, we fight on to live tomorrow stronger.

Not One Step Back!

Rest On Me

Do you know who your soul really is?

Is it a person? A thought? An idea? Or just simply you?

Find your soul and share with me what it tells you.

Want to know what my soul is?

It's running. My soul's been running and running since I've been in touch with it. It's a part of me that I can never hold down. It smiles at me, toying with me and yet always reminding me that...

...that it's free.

Fields, mountains, plains, hills, oceans, ponds, lakes, sand, trees, grass, bushes, fire, sky and darkness. Into and beyond these places has my soul run through them, and it still runs. Seeing the world in shades and flashes of grey through peoples eyes and listening to the words unspoken, it wraps them always taking a side of them I can never see, then returning to me with a grin, giving it to me to figure out. Then swiftly, before I can ask why, it flutters away, soaring, climbing, once again spinning the world on it's little finger. Where have you been, soul? Why run from me when we are one? But when I need you most, you come without a thought, holding me tight, reminding me that it's still there, always where I never imagined it would be...

Within me.

It sits on lonely, high platforms, staring at the world, watching, praying, hoping. What for?

Peace.

So close yet so far. And how much it hurts when my soul comes running back to me; sometimes sad, sometimes happy, sometimes cheeky and playful; but now, torn in two, shredded, crushed, bleeding, begging, screaming in torture. It grabs me by the veins of my heart and pleads for mercy, asking me to stop it's horrendous pain. But I can't. Writhing on the ground, moaning for all of this to stop, never have I seen my soul in such plight. What can I do but watch, as who I am is torn in pieces, unable to shut off the sounds of misery as more wounds are yet again reopened. Its eyes meet mine and all I can do is stare into dark golden eyes, the love in it telling me it knows that I can't help it no more than I can help myself. It tells me it loves me beyond a godly comprehension despite the pain, and sometimes, so rarely, I get a glimpse of a smile, somehow saying...

...It'll be alright.

Please. Take me away.

Fly Back With A Branch

Ruby came along and made me want to say stuff.

She, that mountain and white doves.

My hearts broken.

My souls never been through such torture before.

It's easy to get into the zone. Simply think about the things that hurt the most. And yet, what am I to do? I've never tried so hard in my life to be perfect, so selfless. Maybe I did once, but I failed then, vowed never to. Patience runs thin, what feeds it is the godlike faith it could work. Dreams were never meant to pass into reality and when they do, it's so fragile. Breathe but a little and its dust could be blown into the wind. I fear the words I speak, the way my heart pulses so rapidly, how my soul grips its chains and pleads, screams for its freedom. Reigns that I hold, I feel the grip loosen, and it doesn't bring happiness, but grim pain because....

Because why is it so difficult?

Why?

Why be so afraid? Why be so difficult? Isn't life already so hard that you find it possible to make it so much more so? Isn't our existence so complicated and insane that a simple thing like this seems altogether so impossible?

"But right now, you and me here, put together entirely of atoms, sitting on this round rock with a core of liquid iron, held down by this force that seems to trouble you, called gravity, all the while spinning around the sun at 67,000 miles an hour and whizzing through the milkyway at 600,000 miles an hour in a universe that very well may be chasing its own tail at the speed of light; And admist all this frantic activity, fully cognisant of our own eminent demise - which is our own pretty way of saying we all know we're gonna die - We reach out to one another. Sometimes for the sake of entity, sometimes for reasons you're not old enough to understand yet, but a lot of the time we just reach out and expect nothing in return. Isn't that strange? Isn't that weird? Isn't that weird enough? The heck do ya need to be from Mars for? "

I'm reaching out to you. Take my hand.

Make this amazing journey come to life, give hope to everyone, that some dreams can come true.

If only you're willing to try.

Floats

It hurts.

I'm numb.

And I can't do anything.