Bibliography

  • XXVVIII: Romanticize the Grave (in progress)
  • XXVII: Daemons - 2013
  • XXVI: F r a g m e n t s (part III) The Written Word Is Dead - 2013 (published)
  • XXV: F r a g m e n t s (part II) For the Sense Of God - 2013 (published)
  • XXIV: F r a g m e n t s (part I) F r a g m e n t s - 2013 (published)
  • XXIII: Saints Rose - 2013 (published)
  • XXII: Soul's Haven - 2013
  • XXI: The Paradox - 2013 (published)
  • XX: ICONOGRAPHY - 2012
  • XIX: THE OLD EPITAPH - 2012 (published)
  • XVIII: THE CRYPTIC ALTARS - 2012
  • XVII: Seen Through Different Eyes - 2011 (published)
  • XVI: Cemetery of Garlands - 2011 (published)
  • XV: Lunar Heart - 2010 (published)
  • XIV: PAGES FROM ASHES - 2010 (published)
  • XIII: Little Rabbits - 2009 (published)
  • XI-XII: Shepherd's Gray / Forgiveness in Will - 2009 (published)
  • X: Afterlife - 2008 (published)
  • IX: "From A Melancholy Thoughtfulness" - 2008 (published)
  • VIII: Black Rain - 2007 (published)
  • VII: The Silence Within & Out - 2007
  • VI: Observation - 2006 (published)
  • V: Ethereal - 2006
  • IV: Kingdom - 2006
  • III: The Purpose - 05'-06' (published)
  • II: Follow The Art - 04'-05'
  • I: My Sense Of Compassion - 03'-04'

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Blog dedicated to my 21st work in progress The Pardox

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Accident of Life


There's something to be said
To stare at an intimate object...
And think about what it means
Until nothing makes sense;

You know I thought of this life in so many ways?
Felt I could achieve anything in my youth 
When the world seemed so little ... 
But it pulls you in, dissolves all matter 
Within its loss love, there are no "real" connections 
And now I can't see any of the things I saw. 
Nothing ever as significant. 

But to them, all being is ignored. 
To me all silence in life, is thereafter. 
Don't awaken my ghost. 
Don't wait for my soul to re-enter. 
I may never return home. 

May never return to your laughter. 
Something bright when all seems dark. 

I'll just stay beside you, 
When all the rain in the world
Couldn't make you up... 
Dry away the tears I am numb to 
And fear the rest may overcome. 

If all this gift is, has no promise; 

Than my farewell remains an accident. 
A accident of life. 
And if my will, would refrain from desperate behavior 
Maybe some strength would open the door? 

Something innocent still remains here, beautiful... 
Something lost among your heart's hall beats for my endeavor 
And yet our ropes end remains tied. 

You know I thought of this life in so many ways. 

Alec Wildey - May 13, 2011
From my Book "Seen Through Different Eyes"

In the Forgotten

Maybe if I could feel even more melancholic
My heart could grow to heal you
Maybe if my soul could be saved,
We could move on instead of right here, in the forgotten…

There's nothing more for your words to be a prayer but not a voice
Or your thoughts to be alive but not perdition;
I grow to darkness just one rebirth...
To the old spot on the hill asking the clouds to answer
Suffering the old dead memories dead again and dead again...
Just to see your reaction and your familiar face...
Just to know that we were both unhappy.



There’s a small gap between
What is growing and what is rotting away.
And we’re afraid to fit in;

For what we hope may never happen
For what we fear may never take place
There’s always a little sign that something good
Will come out of suffering,
But to never fully heal makes it difficult to believe.

Maybe if I felt even more melancholic,
The music would be beautiful enough to capture with words
Maybe if those words meant something meaningful to someone
I could move on instead of right here, in the forgotten…

I grow in darkness just one rebirth more...
To the old spot on the grave asking the clouds to uncover
Suffering the old dead memories dead again and dead again...
Just to see your reaction and your familiar face...
Just to feel that what unhappiness was…
Could have been happiness
If we both allowed one another to be saved.

Because a smile was all I ever needed
Just to know that in this life it wasn’t all meaningless.
There's nothing more for your words to be a prayer but not a voice
Or your thoughts to be alive but not perdition;

I grow to darkness just one rebirth...
To the old spot on the hill asking the clouds to uncover.

Alec Wildey – 2011
Cemetery of Garlands © 2010-2011