A Sirens Song
"One night a moth sees a lamp, a burning flame enclosed in glass. The moth spends the entire night bumping against the glass, trying to become ONE with the flame. In the morning the moth returns to its friends and tells them of the beautiful flame it has seen. "You don't look the better for it," they say. Each night the moth returned to the flame and battering himself against the glass until one night the glass broke and in a whoosh he was gone... Nirvana."
In myth sirens were often mermaids (those who walk on land and sea). The mermaids would draw those who could only walk on land to their death (or drive them mad with their song) but for the few... who could love them for what they were, they reserved a special kiss and could bring their lovers into the realm of their origin.
Water in dreams and myth always represents consciousness. The abyss of the unconscious realm that goes unseen by the visible world.
It's sad for those who cannot sustain the beauty of the siren, those who cannot understand she is a otherworldly creature. They dream of possessing her and would, if they could, bring her to live on land where she would die. Fantasies fill their heads that carry them away from her and they cannot fathom loving the real her enough to enter into her world because her world is beyond their grasp. But drawn to her anyway, they follow her song. A song which is an enchanting expression of her beauty and though not meant to lure others to their death, nevertheless does. So moving forward (toward the sea of the unconscious depths) while simultaneously being pushed away by the rocks that guard the shore (the banality and mundane foundation of their own being that refuses to let go of the world), they are driven mad by her call and are drowned by their own mortality (ego).
The god of love has always been the god of death.
I have tasted the salt on the sirens lips. Even now when I put my ear to her chest, like a seashell, I can hear the ocean calling me forward. I have no choice but to embark. Hypnotized by her lovely call, my will is no longer my own. She sings and my body moves toward her of its own accord. I have lost myself and now helplessly follow her song upstream to its source and even if it cost me my life I am to far out to sea now to return to the distant shore. Her song wasn't a call to death for me for I am already a ghost, her song was a call for me to return to my home... in her.
My whole life has been a pilgrimage leading me to her, to the place where land ends at the edge of the world. There I built my cottage by the sea and waited... and forgot and thought (or course) that I had reached my end. I had to die to who I was to live again. I needed her to summon me back to life with her love and her voice, and she did.
She is an enchanting otherworldly creature and all around her know it. They know deep down that she does not belong to this world but only I know why. Even then there are deep Lovecraftian mysteries that lie hidden in her depths that elude me still. Such a haunting and lovely melody her heart plays for me and I will continue to follow it to its source until nothing remains of me but her.
I will hear the end of her song and I will descend into her abyss and swim the depths of her being until finally we meet on the bower of eternity at the bottom of the sea and there I will silence her mournful call with a kiss. She will find her home in me.
To Bia, you will always be my little Goddess.
In myth sirens were often mermaids (those who walk on land and sea). The mermaids would draw those who could only walk on land to their death (or drive them mad with their song) but for the few... who could love them for what they were, they reserved a special kiss and could bring their lovers into the realm of their origin.
Water in dreams and myth always represents consciousness. The abyss of the unconscious realm that goes unseen by the visible world.
It's sad for those who cannot sustain the beauty of the siren, those who cannot understand she is a otherworldly creature. They dream of possessing her and would, if they could, bring her to live on land where she would die. Fantasies fill their heads that carry them away from her and they cannot fathom loving the real her enough to enter into her world because her world is beyond their grasp. But drawn to her anyway, they follow her song. A song which is an enchanting expression of her beauty and though not meant to lure others to their death, nevertheless does. So moving forward (toward the sea of the unconscious depths) while simultaneously being pushed away by the rocks that guard the shore (the banality and mundane foundation of their own being that refuses to let go of the world), they are driven mad by her call and are drowned by their own mortality (ego).
The god of love has always been the god of death.
I have tasted the salt on the sirens lips. Even now when I put my ear to her chest, like a seashell, I can hear the ocean calling me forward. I have no choice but to embark. Hypnotized by her lovely call, my will is no longer my own. She sings and my body moves toward her of its own accord. I have lost myself and now helplessly follow her song upstream to its source and even if it cost me my life I am to far out to sea now to return to the distant shore. Her song wasn't a call to death for me for I am already a ghost, her song was a call for me to return to my home... in her.
My whole life has been a pilgrimage leading me to her, to the place where land ends at the edge of the world. There I built my cottage by the sea and waited... and forgot and thought (or course) that I had reached my end. I had to die to who I was to live again. I needed her to summon me back to life with her love and her voice, and she did.
She is an enchanting otherworldly creature and all around her know it. They know deep down that she does not belong to this world but only I know why. Even then there are deep Lovecraftian mysteries that lie hidden in her depths that elude me still. Such a haunting and lovely melody her heart plays for me and I will continue to follow it to its source until nothing remains of me but her.
I will hear the end of her song and I will descend into her abyss and swim the depths of her being until finally we meet on the bower of eternity at the bottom of the sea and there I will silence her mournful call with a kiss. She will find her home in me.
To Bia, you will always be my little Goddess.
M