Idiosyncratic.: There's only room for one(unless they're a lion.)

2/02/2010

There's only room for one(unless they're a lion.)

I love myself, and Leo.
As boisterous as he is, he's a part of me.
Possesive and proud, but loyal and strong.

I met a Lion, with strength to match my own,
I think eventually I was the stronger one, but not because of our beasts, but for love, and love gives you the greatest strength, and this Lion knew not how to so well.

But here was an alpha, and an alpha needs one of its own kind to love with equal measure,
an alpha and omega, or even beta, they'd be used and destroyed.. regardless of how much you didn't want it to happen.
Lions usually rule alone.
Sometimes as a pair, but two Lions as we were...
We fought bitterly, out of dominance at first, and then..
Dominance became a facade, we fought out of love,

Behind the fights, low rumbling and soft purrs, and roars of joy when we were in a louder mood.
Trust, and affection, to rule together, maybe because had we not loved, we'd destroy each other,
maybe we loved out of neccessity. Both Lions needed to love and be loved.
With this love we reluctantly granted, after we put our pride and egos away, we ruled.

People wonder, how can that be love? They only hurt each other.
No, we gave each other complete reassurance, shared our strength, to become greater beasts.

I would say it was the Lions in us who fought, and the boy and the girl who loved, but no
the Lions loved each other too, they saw in each other, kindred.

Not many appreciate dominance, survival of the fittest, the brutality of life and reign. Of which I believe in.

No one else have I loved with such passion, but no one has truly captured the heart of my lion before.
I wonder if it is because I needed a Lion.
I wonder what I'd feel, if my lion met a lamb.

No comments:

Post a Comment

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.

2/02/2010

There's only room for one(unless they're a lion.)

No comments:

Post a Comment

There's so much more to me.

half / way

me+rellrell

Good Links (A mon avis)

My Blog List

Followers

Blog Archive

too cool.

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