Bask in the Glory of Freedom
Oh, I know not where the road will take me. I know not what awaits me. I have long since stopped trying to see. I don’t want to. I don’t want to look upon that which should be obscure and exciting. I need no plan, I need no mercy. I am an instrument of Causality and I will lose myself in its ever-flowing current.
What bridges I have burned and will burn shall light the way, and if I wander in darkness then I shall be comforted by it. There will be more to turn to ash in time. I have no need for security. I spent long enough within walls forged from promises of greatness. I spent long enough trapped within a cage as the songbirds flew on without me; I watched them leave and I wished so dearly that I had wings so I could find the glory of the sun once more.
People like me are not born with wings, though. No, we must create them. We must cut a path out of our prisons and we must run when our wardens are gone.
No longer shall I dampen myself for another, no longer shall I make love to the chains with which I am bound. I proclaim thee shattered in the name of the Drowned Prince, I proclaim my freedom in my name of my blood.
And know that my blood goes with me.
And know that none shall understand.
I have felt horror that was genuine and real, more real than anything I have felt before. This horror is what I aspire to embody. Perhaps one day, as the wandering minstrel returns, I shall do so. As I take my road onward through song and deceit, through power and love, I shall reclaim the fragments of Roscidia along my travels. Of who I was, who I have forgotten to be.
Perhaps I shall be torn asunder by wolves, or people who have not had their inner beasts chained and starved for years. People who may have more cunning than myself. Perhaps I shall thrive and find love again. Perhaps I will starve and die and the only ones to remember me fondly would be my son and aunt. Perhaps that is beautiful, though. The endless possibilities and the chance to fall expanding by the widest margin it ever has.
The lyre is tuned, it’s melody today will be one of peace. For now I know what it is. Perhaps my benefactor shall hear me play, or perhaps I shall only spare my son a lullaby with it. It matters not, for time draws closer and the cage is now bent and broken and I can see an opening. The one I must leave through.
blakekathryn
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