my words catch like a match in the rain

[Kynim]

several entries of a journal, written over several years- confusing structure, evident patterns, though all written by the hand of a Kitsune trying to find his own answers.

none of such entries are dated, but one can imagine particular events stir particular entries

all of my life I have had

                               all of it filled with

wondrous and mystic magic                 

i was born from the union                                                    of

a famed artificer and a royal djinni                and yet

while my eldest brother was anointed                  as one of

                                                            the chosen of the goddess

and my older twin was borne in the likeness                       of my mystic father

i have found that while some things are given        in this unforgiving world

and others are granted by the blessings of                                 a god or some other

                                                                                               mystic force

some things need to be worked upon                       and worked for

and sometimes we need to claw our way toward                         what we desire

some of us are born lucky while                                                    others are lucky to be born

i have never been the chosen of the sun,                                                                                          nor the inheritor of the djinni's will

thus sometimes i have to ask

what was i made for?

i turn to my own stories, the books i read as a child, i can only wonder what kinds of folklore i may come to embody. what kinds people could write about me

baihu, the first tiger, who rose from anger and hatred to become a being of devotion and love

the firecatcher, who harnessed flame from the dragons to defeat great evil

the clouded minstrel who could turn the skies with his song

a kindred spirit who would ensure death inescapable

an artist who could stir magic with her mere voice

a complete and utter failure, destined to do little

i've always thought myself some kind of artist and my mother was always there to help me

she taught me how to create my first rune ... 'warmth' to keep a cup of tea from cooling down 

she was there when i made my first blade, clearwater, that i may learn how to cut through magic

but there were things i wanted to learn how to work on with her, and things i wanted to learn from her if we had more time

i've always thought myself some kind of free spirit and my father was always there to help me

he taught me how to surf upon a cloud, how to believe in myself, how to believe in the unseen

how to tame an air spirit, how to refuse to back down, how to learn more about magics i have yet to discover

but there were so many things that he could've taught me more, so many more things that i could've learned if we had more time

i've always thought of myself as destined for greatness and my sister was always there to help me

she taught me how to believe in my own inner strength, devotion, and that i could achieve anything

she taught me how to find the first feels of holy magic, how to delve into the mind to treat the throes of corruption-

how to attain an inner light and spread warmth, and love, and laughter to them. i learned how to channel music into magic

and how to bring joy, and fun, to others. but the world was unkind to my sister, so much that she became a product of it. 

but i tried my hardest. i tried to show her my inner light, my song, my soul, and all that she had taught me.. but once more, i had run out of time

so many things have come to fruition and to an end that at this point

i am glad that my sister found peace from her discord,

i am glad that my mother found peace in retirement

i am glad that my father found what he sought

i can't be glad anymore when these things hurt me, when these things leave me, when these things leave me

i don't think i can be glad when the world only serves to grow more lonely. when the world shrinks

and the worst part of all of it is that the people who still remain are broken, beaten, in disarray;

all that i can do is try to help them feel better, to sing to them, to comfort them, to tell them

but the truth about me telling them it's okay to feel is that...

i don't know if                                                     what i feel

is pain                        or anguish                 or fury

or anger                           or loss 

i don't really know what to feel at this point

i don't know what i need to find

i found a piece of it today

i felt a piece of it today

i felt it for a moment

i felt it for a second

i felt it 

i could feel it when i made notes- made plans- made prints toward my first project, when i smelted down the metals and could feel it in the heat of the forge

i could feel it when i sung over your grave, when i lifted the spirits and brought thunder and lightning down upon the earth and danced in the mirth of my storm

i could feel it when you gave me a last parting gift, a last parting message, and a last parting piece of your magic that i may learn how to wield some of it for my own.

but today i felt it pass by me

by my face by my ear

for only a moment

for only a second

and it happened

to be the most

at peace that

i have felt

since all

of you

left

me

i hope one day you'll all see that when you had all come to leave me alone

i was nothing more than broken and battered and pained and anguished

and i haven't found the real answer to why it all hurts, not yet, but

i hope that when i do find that answer it's when i've become

someone who can dance in a thunderstorm and create

wonders with naught more than their hands, and

make wishes come true with naught more 

than their whimsy and very being 

because i am nothing more than

the union between a famed

artificer and a djinni

and i learned how

to become it all

with nothing

more than

my will

to go on

the ramblings feel pointless.. life goes on. i have a new home, new family.

new friends. new projects. so many things to do

so many things that i may aspire to do

i have pored over our conversations

trying to find the secret message

you certainly tried to leave me

and i'm truly sorry to say that

that i only almost found it

and almost may never be

enough for someone

like me to be okay

with the loss and

the pain and the

grief and the

suffering