posted July 19, 2014 10:25 PM
Hello all. This is my first time sharing anything here. I don't write too often, but this was something that just simply came to me one early morning a few months back. As the first few lines popped in my head randomly when lying in bed thinking about the twelfth house and my own planets there, I decided to write, and I always wanted to share it somewhere. Thanks for reading if you happen to!---
Twelfth house planets are like plants. They are trapped and confined in the throes of a violent thunderstorm. They are caught beneath the heels of a flooded wasteland. They are drenched in the downpour of a heavy rainfall.
They are offered no sunlight.
They gleam and glisten like morning dew; they trickle down the windows of a passing car. But they do not shine or glow like stars on the backdrop of a moonlit sky.
They are no friends of the Sun. There is no luminous wonder and there are no warm, welcome gestures from the arms of sunrays. Summer shorelines do not grace them with heated sands and smiling children. Seagulls do not dwell here. Sunshine does not hoist them up by an illuminated anchor.
Mud-caked. Rain-soaked. Dim-lit.
Where is the beacon of light on a vast harbor? Where are the gardening tools in an empty shed? Who spoke with a negligent goodbye? Was there no implanted soil? No, it seems not, for it too was washed away with tearful eyes down a river of a darkened alleyway.
Shriveled and weakened are the lifeless plants.
The cold has settled and wrapped its ghostly fingers around their stems. Suffocated.
The sun has gone down. Perhaps it went down long ago. Perhaps the sun never shone at all.
The plants are on their deathbeds. Please do not bother with CPR or an emergency phone call, for there is no readily-available salvation. There is only but depletion and deprivation of energy.
The plants are now gone, now lost. They will hold a ceremony underground where they will be welcomed and ushered in by the other lifeforms whom are too unheard and unseen. They will now be embraced by open arms from the only other relatable beings.
The sun has been sent an invitation to their wake. The spirit-plants hold a forgiveness in their once-forgotten leaves, for they have always held a forgiveness deep within, as they were endowed at birth a gift of undying and well-concealed compassion for those who also suffer. But will the sun lift up its shining head and return to a landscape so often hazy and untraveled?
The plants silently wait and ponder this. They idly sit in indecision and confinement. They wait, and wait, and wait.
Where is the sun? Is he coming for us? Or is he too now floating in an endless vacuum?
The plant-entities are not sure of this, because the sun was never quite a friend to begin with.
Lindaland
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posted July 19, 2014 10:25 PM
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