My Achroous Reflection

 For my Literature class, we had to write a reflective essay. After I finished mine, I decided to transform it into a poem- and here it is!!
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The past is what defines and shapes who we are
no matter how cafard or painful it may be.
We know, that without its occurrance,
we would not be who we are today-
We would not have the ability to see
the pure truth in others' eyes-
to see true beauty behind a caliginous disguise.
 
The memories of mine that bring true happiness,
I have locked away. Locked away and burnt the key
'till it desolved into ash.
In hopes that they will be safe and free
from the land of forgotten. I have tossed  
the key into a chasm of darkness- to keep the
memories that have brought silence,
the memories that demolish my happiness.
 
Even-though my memory remains to bring silence,
It's adust effects gave me the ability to write
with emotions beyond the darkest mind.
To play instruments with the abditive emotions of fright.
To appreciate the beauty of nature and understand
why it will remain amaranthine.
 
During the midst of a lifetime, there are so many
situations in which one must face an aceldama-
That it would occur caliginous they would vanish over time.
That they would be lost in a chasm of darkness.
Yet the vetand darkness that my memory prevails,
will always remain amaranthine;
This is the poem of my achroous reflection.
 
 
The happiness in my soul began to vanish
as I heard those footsteps from accross the hall.
Suddenly, my body became frozen; all became silent.
My heart remained to beat faster as those footsteps
became louder and louder. Then, the Earth began to fall
and I felt a calescence in my bodies temperature.
And for a reason I will never understand-
I lifted up my head.
 
What I saw, I could not look away from-
What I saw, caused my body to become numb:
Curly, menalic black medium length hair
that brought back the memory of fear;
Flesh the color of dark clover honey that
others would have thought  brought out His tall figure.
But all I saw, was a vorpal white rose with virose thorns.
Then His body turned to mine and I began to shake.
 
His eyes, black as the pits that shape hell,burned into my mind.  
My own eyes began to pain, yet I felt no lachrymose,
and no matter how hard I tried, I could not breathe.
Silence filled my vission.Then darkness.  
Followed by thin chimes in unison.
I knew that my heart was beginning to beat faster,
for when I opened my eyes, my shirt was vibrating.
Then, I slowly returned my sight to the doorway.
 
He was gone. Maybe He was only visiting a friend.
Yet for some reason, I remained to feel His presence.
All of a sudden, my ears began to ring.
And from that experience, I knew the He was speaking.
I tried to evaporate His voice, but I couldn't.
And all I could see-all I could hear- was our past.
The past and memory that I have tried so hard to execute.
 
Ever since that day that I saw Him,
I dreamt of Him every night.
And in each of those dreams,
He wore the color of White.
The color of Purity and Innocence-
which, I will never understand-
And even in those dreams, He would stare at me.
But when I looked into His  eyes,
I saw that He was trying to tell me something.
And I will never know what.
 
This virose memory tought me that
there are no good, and no bad people.
That my abditive and amaranthine mind,  
is the only thing that I can trust.
For the emotions of fear and pain-
The achroous and caliginous memories of aceldama-
Is what make us all humans.
To own the ability to love and
-no matter how many times we tell ourselves not to-
To Forgive.
[b]

         11/17/12