“Trying to reach the lighter side while flying towards the sun, can be hard“ Gun Roswell
From eternal darkness into awaiting light
The wings heavy and exhausted from flying all through the night, but the fight to survive is far from over. Or at least, that is how it feels, as the only thing this winged being wants to do, is to get into the bright light of the day, wherever it may lay ahead, at least that is the hope for the weary traveller up high in the skies.
But what happens when the darkness finally ends? After having so much time inside there spent, can the light really be the long awaited saviour our winged friend was looking for all this time? Is the feeling they had been looking for simply fine? Basking there, in the eternal light, without any strife the best way of living it, only nice?
Well, guess we will never find out the total truth as some of us prefer the lure of darkness, the shadows so safe, there is simply no way, letting in that bright and shiny sun into the corners where we, the dark dwellers
‘Falling to ones death doesn’t mean it is the end of things.’
The Fallen Ice Vulture and the Ascended Angel
Falling fast.
Life death, all things that nature never really last. The only thing which matters is trying from those to move past.
The remorse, the regrets, the failures, all those to be left behind. Once done, shedding those feelings, letting oneself become, the undone, something of the other kind can begin, another kind of tune to which with sing.
But what if there is nothing there? What then? What of the scare? Only the consuming darkness into which enfold awaiting? Becoming no more, the one single state always hated?
All of that which came before, wasted? Like the sacrifice made for others, not being able to watch on as they thrive, being alive just because the choice was made to keep them safe?
Falling, ever deeper.
The sensations of the body becoming clearer, the mind following suit. There is nothing more to be done except to let it happen. The inevitable fate down below waiting. Getting nearer.
The end.
There will be pain, for sure. But hopefully only for a diminishing moment before the cold grasp of death so pure ends it all. Must stand proud, be tall. It is just a fall after all.
Almost there now.
The ground visible. The irony of the beauty there, the blues, the whites, the greens, all the colours so bright and vivid as far as he eyes can see. Something of a scenery to be committed to memory during any other time… but this.
As soon, there will be nothing left. No more memories, no other thoughts, no nothing any more. It’s the way, the death’s score. The being that once was, no more.
Yielding, to the inevitable now.
Even if there might have been so much doubt. The mind always working. Trying to figure out.The before time, before the fall. All of it. But during the all too brief moment, some of it becoming pure torment of the mind… the only kind of thoughts being those… of letting it all go. The forever sleep awaiting. No more hesitation.
The ground almost at level.
The last resting place visible ahead there. Eyes closed, no use in seeing it all up front, close and personal. The final hit to the ground as the body crashing, falling into pieces, somewhere where there where no one else sees it…
Thank the Force for small favours!
Letting go, letting go… the mantra playing in slow-mo.
A gust of wind all around suddenly. The soft sounds of… winds flapping?
Birds of prey? No, no, no! They cannot slay! Not so dead yet anyway!
Eyes, eyes, all over spy, trying to find the source of why.
Another flap of wings, the sound closer now, somehow even larger this time around.
Falling?
No, slowing down.
Being grabbed a hold of somehow.
The softness surrounds. A feathery light touch all around. A surprise!?
Am I, dead or alive?
The flapping of the wings continue, carrying away no more ground to be found. Higher ever upwards flying, another surprise! Perhaps even a soft smile? No more falling, that is nice. Feeling light. Ended has the fight, life, death, all things that nature. Is this something in between perhaps?
A soft gravely croak, somehow familiar sounds. As if talking, trying to understand the underlying meaning of the talk of it all. And then it hits. Like a ton of hard bricks! Inside of the head. A thought perhaps? A telepathic link into the mind sinks. The connection clearer now, as if a frequency opened? Or is this pure delusional hoping?
Dead or alive? The guess is as good as any of the mind.
Flying real high, far away from the ground and the fall. Perhaps surviving or then its just the remnant thought, of the body once brilliant having been. So many things seen, now leaving.
But the words inside get so much clearer. The voice so familiar that much is becoming surer.
Higher, ever more higher up. The clouds at reach now.
Could be so easy to touch them, but don’t dare. Not even daring to hope this is all real. Perhaps the one last dream before falling into the eternal sleep? Daring to hope perhaps not a good deal.
“I am here.”
“Who, are you?”
“I am here, for you.”
The voice too familiar. Having heard it so many times before. The soft hissing sounds, the gravely tone. Not of a bird, but someone, once known.
“I know you.”
“Yes you do. I came for you.”
“Why?”
“Because you needed me.”
“Simple as that?”
“Simple, as that.”
“But you were…”
“I know. But not any more.”
“Where are we going?”
“Wherever you want.”
“Am I alive?”
“That, is for you to decide.”
Flying over the lush green lands. Finally in good hands or rather, held by a wide wing’s span. The Vulture with the darkest of feathers so blue, taking the fallen towards the light.
“Words shall not be hid nor spells buried might shall not sink underground though the mighty go.” ― Elias Lönnrot, The Kalevala
Kalevala Day (Finnish Culture Day) 28th of February
The Kalevala or The Kalewala (/ˌkɑːləˈvɑːlə/; Finnish: [ˈkɑle̞ʋɑlɑ]) is a 19th-century work of epic poetry compiled by Elias Lönnrot from Karelian and Finnish oral folklore and mythology.
It is regarded as the national epic of Karelia and Finland and is one of the most significant works of Finnish literature. The Kalevala played an instrumental role in the development of the Finnish national identity, the intensification of Finland’s language strife and the growing sense of nationality that ultimately led to Finland’s independence from Russia in 1917.
The first version of The Kalevala (called The Old Kalevala) was published in 1835. The version most commonly known today was first published in 1849 and consists of 22,795 verses, divided into fifty songs (Finnish: runot). The title can be interpreted as “The Land of Kaleva” or “Kalevia”.
Posted in Freaky Friday: Tales of the odd and unexpected
“December’s wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer’s memory…” ― John Geddes
One Day in December
The early morning light in the eastern horizon, in the colour of brightest red and powerful, like a wild fire, gave the villagers quite the scare. It had been a long dark period after the colours of fall had faded, but they had expected the dark times to last at least several moons over, before the light bringer would once again light the fires up in the North, indicating start of spring.
Gathering into the village centre, whole families and their pets, standing there, staring in awe at the fiery sky. No sound was heard, apart from the roars of the winds in the near forest. Then, the eerie silence was broken. A bang on the ground of a heavy object being dropped followed a squeaky voice:
“Ragnarök!” she shouted pointing at the sky.
The other turned at her, looking and wondering what the village oldest woman was on about.
“The war is coming!” she kept looking at the skies.
“War?” someone from the crowd dared asking.
The old woman nodded and kept looking at the skies, “Yes, the war”, she simply stated. Then sighing, she looked back at the village, who had their eyes turned to the old woman, clearly gone mad or delusional.
“What war is that?” a man questioned her.
The old woman stood silent for a moment before she responded.
“The war of the ages, the war between good and evil” she whispered under her breath and then turned towards the others, “Armageddon!” she half shouted.
“Surely, you are mistaken?” the man continued and hesitated for a moment, “Maybe we have miscalculated the passing of time and the springtime is upon us?” He turned toward the others nodding as if getting the others to go along with his assessment.
But, the others were looking worried and starting to realize, what the woman was trying to say. That the old fairy tales, passed on as folklore. Bedtime stories told by parents to scare the children to do their bidding, may now have become true.
“Ragnarök”, the old woman just stated silently and once again turned her face towards the reddening skies.
In honour of Kalevala Day 28th of February, Celebration
“Words shall not be hid nor spells buried might shall not sink underground though the mighty go.” ― Elias Lönnrot, The Kalevala
Kalevala Day (Finnish Culture Day) in Finland 28th of February
The Kalevala or The Kalewala (/ˌkɑːləˈvɑːlə/; Finnish: [ˈkɑle̞ʋɑlɑ]) is a 19th-century work of epic poetry compiled by Elias Lönnrot from Karelian and Finnish oral folklore and mythology.
It is regarded as the national epic of Karelia and Finland and is one of the most significant works of Finnish literature. The Kalevala played an instrumental role in the development of the Finnish national identity, the intensification of Finland’s language strife and the growing sense of nationality that ultimately led to Finland’s independence from Russia in 1917.
The first version of The Kalevala (called The Old Kalevala) was published in 1835. The version most commonly known today was first published in 1849 and consists of 22,795 verses, divided into fifty songs (Finnish: runot). The title can be interpreted as “The Land of Kaleva” or “Kalevia”.
Rantings Of A Third Kind 