The past few days have not been great post-wise, have they… it is a statement, more than a question, for I already know the answer were it posed as one. Trust me to do months of good solid posting, even when I wish not to, only to let it come to a hiccup and not let it recover straight away. No matter. I sit here typing in a rush as it closes on the midnight hour, in order that I might again return to a semblance of normality and renew my simple pledge of a creative product a day, no matter what stands in my way. While the first hiccup was nigh on unavoidable, I should still have had something up yesterday… complacency is not a friend.
And so, as per the day before last, I offer forth two pictures instead of the customary one, in order to atone for my lack of posting, lest you think me unrepentant.
I shall speak to you as I have drawn them – rough, unhewn gleanings sought though a half-glazed stream of thought as I’ve put my pen to paper. Indeed, no thought runs true when it comes to this way of thinking… I desired only something to show that I could continue as I have begun, and so these pictures have been produced.
First, a midnight bloom, plucked from the vine ere the toll of the dawn. It flowers only in the shade of darkness, its beauty resplendent only for those who look in the purity of the deep velvet gloom of the evening’s blanketing warmth. Its scent is heady and strong, though with a delicacy that laces the air with only the most pure and pungent of perfumes. Any glow of even the most dimmest lit torches would cause it to shrivel, its gift plunged into the light turning sour and sickly… even the petals simply withering to die before any eyes may take in the glory of what it was within darkness. Learn to view by the hazy light of the moon, but do not sully that which was not meant to see the breath of daylight’s kiss.
As dark has its light, so too must night have its counterpart in its daytime companion. Thus, another blossom sets forth, held far apart from its night blooming cousin, reveling instead in the touch of the sun’s tender warming caress upon its petaled form. However, this bloom also carries its own saddening curse. Destined to burst forth at light’s first touch, the shadow destroys what once was light – lean in too close, try to sniff at the tendriling plumes, one miscalculation and all is surrendered. So it is as with light, so it is with the darkness – either destroyed by the other’s touch, yet radiant within their own elements, the night blooming flower and the bloom of the daytime shall forever more be destined to their solitary existences… one once a maiden, the other a man, a Goddess cursed union forever to be kept apart by the very means of their continuing existence. Yet they bloom. One in light, one in dark, forever hoping that the next bud set forth may meet their lover in the short life to come.
Ok… so that is enough rambling for one evening. That’s what the pictures asked of me, and thus I have told their tale neatly, if roughly, in the hour allotted to me before the bell of midnight strikes. Good eve.