Im depressed. Alone and worried. I sit in my insainly clean room (due to cleaning when im upset.. and well just cleaning) I do 5 things when im upset; clean, listen to soft music, burn incense, write, and cry. I am currently doing 3 of these activities. I am writing, as you can see, burning incense, and listening to Celtic Visions. Almost crying, but not yet..
My incense are dancing for me. Its amazing. I have no air flow in my room to disturb it, and my lights are off so i can see it wonderfully. It is dancing to my music. With every trill or thump of the drums, the smoke swirls gracefuly. Every thing about the incense is graceful. The smell. The smoke. It is also my comforter. I can sit here in my depressed agony, and sooner or later the incense will do its work and help healing my hearts river.I can be crying , and my incense calm me. Its strange I stop everything to listen and smell the the incense. Its enthralling and yet appalling to see what power incense poses. Well for me anyway.
As it gets later and dark the smoke looks like a spirit. I need light. I light candles.. The candles light is glorious. So calm, so sure, so brave. My room becomes a beautiful scene. Something , i think, fairy spirits would like to sleep in. Or where voices would talk. Imagine it.
A room, lace curtains. A bluish light, then candles all around the room. A beautifull glow,showing the butterflies on the wall, flickering. Music playing. Celtic Visions. Beautiful music, like a dance that should be danced.But only by the most beautiful, most elegant graceful angel. Who's beauty cannot ever be matched. Then the smell. Not flowery sweet. NOt musky. A bitter sweet hase-ish smell. Warriors encampment. The smell of a lonesome coolness. Yet so comforting. Like being in the arms of the one you love for all eternity. Sacred beauty is held by it. The smoke encases it. Wraps it. Furls around everything. Dancing to the music like a gypsy spirit. Then imaging the Gypsy Spirit..
Isn't it wonderful. like a wonderful drawing. It is my room. my comforting abyss. And in a sick sweet way i love my depression.
The greatest thrill is not to kill... but to let live.
sometimes..................
NIghtRose hunter.
 twilight_raven919 · Fri Oct 19, 2007 @ 03:58am · 0 Comments |
