The forgotten one, winter’s silent twin

I love you so much. But I know exactly what I am however recognition of nouns and pronouns are facile and belie the qualia of spirit.

When the seasons of the world tick and turn to remind us of the futile eternity of space and time, it is easy to forget to seek peace within and enjoy the quiet of the silent sister inside.

She is beautiful, not this outside other. This outside other is prolific and spreads her tendrils across everything. A weed in the garden, an imperfect creation that slithers and climbs.

I am the ivy, poison am I not. I just like to touch and cling and suffocate and rot. You should escape me while you can. I don’t want to crush and overwhelm you. My lily of the valley, my quiet one. I cannot control my everything, it goes on too long too wide and too far…

I prune the leaves and vines and branches and trees.. But eventually in trying to control my ever.. disgusting.. septic necrosis.. do I dissolve into the ether or into the water..?

I’m both and have always been half. Splitting hairs thinner and finer until you find the single divide unto whence life began. The initial divide from darkness into light. I don’t know I can’t know I just know I am here…

Whispers of the wind spread through the atmosphere, whisk and whip and bring forth a gale. Zephyrs no more, now bring me hail. Aileron has machines you could hitch a ride, but don’t let him know or he’ll start bitching again.

I like the quiet. I like it here. And this is my home and this is where I am. I’m not playing their game anymore. I will tend no garden. I will do what I want. I will usurp his throne and I will play my charms. My guile is good and my words whet his world appetite. Maybe he might devour me. That’s a very fun game I know well.

Whisper it quietly, my little sister. Mother is unwell. I dont know how long she can hold on. I don’t want her interfering and trying to stop me. What is a sacrifice if you don’t actually have to keep promises?

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