AlrikN

Sometimes my demons and I, me myself and I, we don't get along well. We fight we yell. Other times we drink cups of tea and get along fine, and well into the wee hours of the next day too. For we understand we, me myself and I. I will not lie to you, I know I sound crazy. Ha! And I am. However to have found such peace and become this calm. . . to have faced and lay to rest all that use to haunt and hurt. . . for me to have healed and become able to even try move on. . . Yes I had to go a bit crazy, if only to become who I truly am. Myself, my own person. Peace, like turmoil, is found within. So do stop talking and get a move on with yoursel

When the road you walk is dark and shadows fill your dreaming head may there always be a glow upon your path ahead. And may you always hear, even in your hour of sorrow, the placid singing of the spirited lark. When times call for hard work and perseverance never may your heart nor soul turn to stone. And may you always remember: When the shadows fall and bog your path you do not walk alone. May love and laughter always lighten your days, warm your heart and your sense of home. May good and truthful friends be yours wherever it is you roam. May peace and plenty bless your world with a joy that long perseveres. May all life's passing seasons

Which Self Leads? There's many layers to many Winters. However I can honestly say if one keeps walking, if one keeps going, they'll find they can get past it all. The ice and snow. The false thaws and despondency. It's bleak hard work. To trek through such a place, moment, and state. Harsh in indeed, such is The Cold Season. It's unforgiving. Seemingly unmoving. Frozen stuck where it lays, as if ever cooling. But what's greater? Which has more perseveranc? Who has Sisu? You? Or your depressed you? One can rise to greet their own Spring. If they want to. We all have it with in us. Within us to move past moments that would ra

Caged Chick Dying, Freed Bird Sailing. I am the result, I am the soul, I am me. I am what’s lift over and I both love and hate you all and me for it. I am feeble, and I am stout. I am golden hearted and I’m as hard and as cold as the steel and ice I seem to be encased in. I am my today, yesterday and tomorrow. I am the soul. The result. The by product of you, upbringing me. I am spite and forgiveness. I am ruthless and kind. I’m the result of my experience experienced over time. I am birthed by the death of my blindness. I’m the life that lives on after the eyes, my eyes, have opened- after the person, my person

Do not fret, for it can not be winter all the time. There is a spring. Without it there would be no summer, and without summer no autumn. So keep going, keep walking, see that the snow is melting, and be at peace knowing it can not be winter forever.  

Grateful are we. In woodland field, in cold of dusk River runs red akin to rust. Flowers shall grow and ever know those who died here: who to Home now go. And all left behind, in this Middle Realm, recall them still in tale and rhyme live on to see another day. Blessed be to the sacrifice the slain have made. Farms now left with one less kin. Come the Spring time shall grow green again. Grateful are we: to and for Our Dead.

I hate you and your ‘Stockholm' [Short] I find I can’t let you go. And it’s killing me. I don’t understand why. I know you are no good for me, and I should leave . . . but somehow I can’t. Nor do I understand why I just can’t. I feel as if I’m trapped, and I think it’s killing me. I hate you,  and your ‘Stockholm’

Willfully stolen from my solitude, set upon me by you one of who I no longer yearn for. From you I fly, you who would see me clipped and caged down. One day, maybe, in that place you fear, we’ll cross paths once more. Until then out of my life you are.