by Cara Vermaak
She stares silently at the full moon knowing tonight will be no different; knowing that within the sanctity of her own self is her solace, in the recess of her dreams rests her ardour. The body in contrast begging for the release, in pain, in distress, in need….
The moon teases her with his bright stillness, causing havoc throughout her mind, her body, her soul, rendering her to a lonesome creature of unfulfilled craving, thirsting for the beauty of self, the splendour of seclusion.
She walks out of the world, she walks out of the present… she has nowhere to go, no one to tell, she walks into the lonely abyss of nothing. Her path bright with the rays of the silvery moon, tears masking the illumination, creating a faery tale of colour, of mystery. Tree shadows beckoning her to the dark of the night, to hide with them from the dazzling rays of the full moon. Wanting to be no one, nothing wanting to be gone…
She bows her head in acknowledgement of defeat, accepting her sentence to the abandoned emptiness of all she has become, all she never dreamed, all she did not know existed in the name of love. As the dark embraces her, she knows she no longer exists, no longer walks proud, no longer has the gift to offer purity to another, as her soul has run dry, her insight is tarnished by the nothing she has become, the no one who occupies her being.
Veiled by the shadows of the trees, she will be untouched by the rays of the moon, untouched by the hand who would love her this night, untouched by the ache of being nothing, no one, invisible…
Last updated June 05, 2013