Idiosyncratic.: 'Manz from different endz'

1/27/2010

'Manz from different endz'

To protect ourselves, we surround ourselves with people that help us out of those dark holes, always there for us, carrying ropes. Some people are better guardians, some guardians help you feel better about yourself, some throw themselves in front of you, some stand up for you in a fight. Some guardians are dangerous.
When you love a wilder beast, you are tied to it, but at the end of that rope is ferocity.
Whilst around other people, the beast tied to you can hurt them, you can't always protect people from yourself.
You could remove yourself, but that'd hurt you, that'd hurt them.
You could untie yourself, but that'd hurt you, that would hurt your heart.
When your heart calls, you follow.

Once a girl, collecting water from the well, saw a Lion under the accacia tree. His mane was full and beautiful, his paws were strong, and his eyes, his eyes shined with gold. She fell in love with him.
Everyday she wandered further and further from the well, inexplicably drawn to him.
At first he waited by the tree, but soon, day by day, as she came closer with every sunrise before running back, he was drawn too. He smelt her sweet scent and warm blood.
Then, she came close enough to feel his hot breath, and she reached out to stroke his mane, enchanting as the moment was, his instincts fuelled him to strike, for mistrust of men, and his aggression.
A village man ran out to defend her, he fought the Lion, raised up his spear to strike -
But the girl couldn't bear it, for the beautiful Lion to lose life for her, for the man to be hurt for her sake, and she flung herself before the spear, and it pierced her heart.

1 comment:

Anonymous18 April 2010 at 17:27
your odd..
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The boy and his falcon - One of my favourite stories.

Once there was a boy.
When the boy was six years old, his father gave him a falcon to train.
Falcons are raptors - killing birds, his father told him, hunters of the sky.
The falcon didnt like the boy, and the boy didnt like it either.
Its sharp beak made him nervous, and its bright eyes always seemed to be watching him.
It would slash at him with its beak and talons when he came near: For weeks his wrists and hands were bleeding.
He didnt know it, but his father had selected a falcon that had lived in the wild for over a year, and thus nearly impossible to tame.
But the boy tried, because his father had told him to make the falcon obedient, and he wanted to please his father. He stayed with the falcon constantly, keeping it awake by talking to it and even playing music to it, because a tired bird meant it was easier to tame.
He learned the equipment, the jesses, the hood, the brail, the leash that bound the bird to his wrist.
He was meant to keep the falcon blind, but he couldnt bring himself to do it - instead he tried to sit where the bird could see him as he touched and stroked its wings, willing it to trust him.
He fed it from his hand, and at first it would not eat. Later, it ate so savagely that its beak cut the skin of his palm. But the boy was glad, because it was progress, and because he wanted the bird to know him, even if the bird had to consume his blood to make that happen.
He began to see that the falcon was beautiful, that its slim wings were built for speed of flight, that it was strong and swift, fierce and gentle. When it dived to the ground, it moved like light. When it learned to circle and come to his wrist, he nearly shouted with delight.
Sometimes the bird would hop onto his shoulder and put its beak in his hair. He knew his falcon loved him, and when he was certain it was not just tamed, but perfectly tamed, he went to his father and showed him what hed done, expecting him to be proud.
Instead, his father took the bird, now tame and trusting, in his hands, and broke its neck.
I told you to make it obedient, his father said and dropped the birds lifeless body to the ground. Instead, you taught it to love you. Falcons are not meant to be loving pets: They are fierce and wild, savage and cruel. This bird was not tamed, it was broken.
Later when his father left him, the boy cried over his pet, until eventually his father sent a servant to take the body of the bird and bury it.
The boy never cried again, and he never forgot what he learned: that to love is to destroy and to be loved is to be the one destroyed.
From City of Bones by Cassandra Clare.

Idiosyncratic.

Be different.

1/27/2010

'Manz from different endz'

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There's so much more to me.

half / way

me+rellrell

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too cool.

The boy and his falcon - One of my favourite stories.