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[Sinylene Arabana]

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Clutched tightly in her hand the journal speaks it all...

And in each fragile moment, what we hold dear becomes unclear. Moments squandered thoughts wasted.
Many times I reach out to grasp something solid but there is nothing.
There is only me in the emptiness of nothingness.

There was a time that I thought others could hear me, that they spoke to me and I them.
Yet days turn to night and hours stretch into countless nothing. Sadly I await. Sadly I
am alone, and I think is my life worth this unhappy shell?

I ponder to myself this throne of barren life I have created, this unyeilding need to
continue down a path that leads to naught. All my lifes work and ambition rolled up into
a ball and so easily shattered in one foul blow.

How I sit scared and alone, as nighttime blankets the sky as I stare up from my bed at
restless ceilings. How long will I suffer this torment that i create. Forever in a day?

When will the weary mind rest and the worry that plagues my days yeild to warmer
thoughts. Happier times, gentle loves blessing. Never?

Perhaps the fact that ever lies within it, that ever sits upon it
keeps me going even tho the negative is there i cling
to ever.. for the sake of life.

Once those that new me turn with strangers eyes, with unhappy countenance upon my form I
shall be parched as a desert longs for the sea. And the salt will sting my eyes when it is given,
rend my heart when it is fulfilled.

Aching endless nothing fills our lives and we cling to find something thru companionship
to make it bearable, but it is gone oft times. That which is there one day is denied you
the next and once again love , happiness, and comfort is torn from our grip.

When night settles upon me and with perfect paleness I go to rest. My lips a sullen line
of sleep. My brow in comfort forever held. We ask ourselves one simple question. Did I
imprint this life upon another? And now, what next for me is there. For this mortality is lost.

And yet she stirred..