Satisfaction of finishing a novel

A while ago I decided that I needed to read more of the classical novels. I decided to read Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre, as I had seen different adaptations I thought it was about time I read the words that inspired these screenwriters.

I started it. I really got into it, with the depth of character, place, and description and of the thoughts, feelings and the perception of the world through Jane’s eyes. I was reading it on hot sunny days and long into the night.

Then one day I just stopped.

I had it on my drawers and it was staring at me with a whisper “Read me”. I knew I had to at some point finish it, but still time went by and it still sat there, that was until a sunny day this bank holiday. As the weather was glorious I thought it was be a great moment to escape into another world. No better than finishing off the book I had started. Over the course of the bank holiday I finished the book of

Even though I knew how the story ends, there was a satisfaction of reading it in great details. It was enjoyable to fully understand and grasp the full motives and personality of a character.

 

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Standing at the crossroads

At a crossroad we all stand at some point in our lives, a signpost in front of my eyes pointing left and right. To the left is a blue sky with white fluffy clouds. A path that is clear and even, clean and bright. The tress at the side of the path are all green and in a neat road. To the right is a different story. It is dark and dismal with black clouds that look like it could rain at any moment. The path has branches in the way. Tress that have fallen down blocking the way, to which you would climb over, trees that overhang and cause a canvas, no brightness, no leaves. The trees look in a permanent winter.

Which path would you choose?

The nice one I presume?

What if I told you that halfway down each path that it all changed, that the nice path became dark, dismal and an eternal winter. That the path that would put you off became clear, with bright blue skies and into a summer haze.

Imagine that these crossroads are like life. That the easy road and the easier choices end up becoming more difficult as time goes on. Yet the more difficult path is similar to the difficult choices and decisions we initially make, create an easier path later on.

Now you know that would you still choose the same path?

Eye of the beholder

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
With a smile and a smoulder
That could melt a heart.
But hide a thousand sins.
For what we see is what we believe,
But it is not necessarily true.

To say to the world to see through what you see,
Is sometimes hard to swallow
As what you say is different from the image you perceive.
For the perception of beauty you seek,
As the thousands sins you may hide cannot be easily seen
For beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Ticking away

Tick tock
Tick tock
The clock keeps ticking away, in the silent waiting room.
Thoughts are your own apart from tick tock, tick tock
The clock never stops.
Waiting a room, not sure how long for,
Soon enough I will see the door.
The clock still continues tick tock even to an empty room.

The world is a precious pearl

The world was once an oyster
So clean, untouched and beautiful.
Hidden pearls so shiny and new,
Yearned for and desired by explorers galore.
On their ships they went onto the high seas,
Changing the world as it once was.
Conquering and searching for lands to yield to a flag.
A flag the aborigines did not except and bow down to.
Slaughtered, isolated and foreigners settled where they did not before.
To take over the land, to take the beautiful pearls from the shells they belonged to.

But now, now the world is very much changed.
The pearls are now dull and dark.
The explorers created an unhinged chaos.
The world is now global and commercial.
We no longer travel by ship but in the air, to the exotic and beautiful.
But the exotic and beautiful is becoming tainted,
Tainted by us, the descendants of the explorer, the traveller,
The tainted world we now live in is a dying pearl. An oyster that no longer produces anymore,
For we are the reason the pearl is dark.
With the pollution in the air and the sea,
We created the monster of a dying and diminishing oyster clan.
We need to change our ways before the oyster is an extinct.

For one day the future people will say why did they not change their ways?
Why do we suffer the consequence of a generation that died years ago?
The times of ice ages will become a myth with the world becoming an oven instead.
It is time to change our ways before it is too late.
Let the pearls breath and grow once more,
Let the future see the beauty we once saw with the pearls.
For the world we live in is a pearl that needs brightening once more.

Memory of you

The memory of you is hard to lose, though forgetting you will never be a challenge.
As I cling onto the memory of you, I cannot shake you off.
For I remember everything you see, but what I share is up to me.
We always see the good, but never speak of the bad or ugly.
We recall the joy and laughter and sometimes the sadness and tears.
For I cannot forget you and nor do I want to. As to do so would be a sin.

For the memory of you recalls in the first time we met.
The words we shared
The laughter, the tears, the joy and understanding,
A small piece of friendship we shared, an unspoken bond of trust,
Of no words needed in the silence, for it was golden,
But only for a moment,
As now there is a silence that is no longer golden.
It is black and dreary, of knowing your silence will never be broken.
For you are gone but never forgotten. Your memory will live forever.

For I have made peace in a small way,
In knowing you are no longer here.
For the hole you left is rather large and can never be filled.
Time may manage it, only just, for time will continue where you be frozen in time.
A time one day we will all face,
But not too soon I hope.
As I need to share the memory of you, for you are hard to forget.
To forget you will never be done, as too many people knew you for who you are.
You may not see the legacy behind you left, but you did.
The impact ever so great and prolonged, that your memory will live on in us.
It shall never die. For the memory of you is hard to lose.