#methaphor

Metaphor: ReFantazio - Seeker - S.H.Figuarts (Bandai Spirits)

The Woods of Tartarus

a salty tangy breeze floats lazily all around me. The sun is setting and all i feel is the softest lull of the water linking to the pier.. what silence. what serenity. what tranquility. I wonder how ill ever feel this tranquil inside, for all i see lately is storms and i hear battle cries and fire and destruction. i wonder if ill ever feel the peace of a gentle undercurrent pulling me down, to caress me in a soft waterbed, yet i have fought each current to no avail, i have nearly drowned countless times. What is a man without his ink and paper? what is a man without his expression. He is nothing and i was nothing. how to quell the fire that swept over my entire system and made me forget the fountain of youth that dwells deep within my very soul? Long have i screamed, in terror, in anger, in desperation for the dirty waters of delusion and sad thoughts, of command and of arrogance, of jeers and hatred? How could a creature of the water like myself be swept in a hurricane and i found myself slamming into the cold hard ground with no air in my lungs. The water confides in me, it tells me of secrets and tales, it speaks in a haze of codes and patterns of noises and i lull like a small boat on its harmony. The softest touch i used to have, before it turned into moss, sleepy and frightful everything slipped right out of my fingers. What is a son of Water to do? when two other sons of Water have co ntrol over a daughter of Air? A different stream runs in my blood, a stream of kindness, honesty and love. I am the son of the Black Sea, for my blood runs deep like as the sea flows into the river Danube. I am the Son of a Sea whose name is a figure of speech, for the water where i was born is caresses the very fibres of your soul, hanging of your lungs like lemon honey drops. Pour a silver bucket of Black Water over the ugly flames, demonic and furious, Jealous and Childish. Pour it out as it burnt your whole forest of morals, beliefs and truth .Put it out before you become like the other Sons Of water, for they are Mediterranean, and you are Romanian.Let the gentle water heal your scabs, purify those horrifying burns. Let the cold air of the early evening give you strength inside your very Bones... Let it help you grow and tower your dungeon and seal it shut. This is what the sea told me.. and and his Son.. this is what i must do.

“They don’t kill you unless you light them,” he said as Mom arrived at the curb. “And I’ve never lit one. It’s a metaphor, see: You put the killing thing right between your teeth, but you don’t give it the power to do its killing.”