The Sacrificial Burn
“The Sacrificial Burn”, a very short story of a pyromaniac, who loved the Light too much.
A writer’s journey. Perhaps it’s about life. Perhaps it’s about death. Perhaps it’s about the end of the world and wanting to take back time again. Perhaps it’s about ghosts. Perhaps it’s about becoming a ghost. Perhaps, as another writer friend of mine advises, it’s up to the reader to interpret for themselves relating the story to themselves. If it doesn’t, then the writing unlike ectoplasm doesn’t stick. Perhaps poetry is just the biggest mind f*** of all, like love, an addiction, that gives great pleasure and the most immense pain and one just has to walk through the walls cutting up their words each time they pass through, like some grand reincarnation. Some ghosts are eternal, remembered, some fade forever and are forgotten. The worst ghosts are best forgotten or jailed up in a Dybbuk box, not to be thrown into the deepest ocean, not to be buried, but to be burned. The sacrificial burn with a few incantations, a bit like poetry. A flaming pyre of poésies sent off in its boat with the ferryman across Styx. Of course, all this is done with Love biting its tale.
(LadyLabyrinth/2023)
“You arrive, now that I must leave
I'll take one step out of the nice dream
Into, something unknown, something unkind
Somewhere so quiet, gone from your side
Send me to lie here
Forever unseen”
“Why, why would you leave here
Right when I need you
No, I can't see you
Out in the open
Out in the darkness
Here where I knew you
Here in my heart
And on somewhere unseen
The distance is killing me
The distance between
I'm taking the water, taking on time
Does it ever leave
Does it ever leave
Taking on the water, taking on time
Does it ever sleep
Does it sleep at all…”
(excerpts, “The Distance, Emma Ruth Rundle)
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