| Heaven's Light/Hellfire |
[May. 17th, 2008|02:50 am] |
| [ | Feeling... |
| |  confused | ] |
| [ | The music in my mind... |
| | The Hunchback of Notre Dame - Heaven's Light/Hellfire | ] |
First off, let me apologize for my previous entry. What can I say, I was pissed. Though I will admit that every word of it was and is true, crude as the writing may have been. This entry might shed some light on where my countenance lies, over which edge I am teetering, andthe internal conflict that is tearing me apart.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rj1v5tXs9Jo&feature=related
Quasimodo:
So many times out here
I've watched a happy pair
Of lovers walking in the night
They had a kind of glow around them
It almost looked like heaven's light
I knew I'd never know
That warm and loving glow
Though I might wish with all my might
No face as hideous as my face
Was ever meant for heaven's light
But suddenly an angel has smiled at me
And kissed my cheek without a trace of fright
I dare to dream that she
Might even care for me
And as I ring these bells tonight
My cold dark tower seems so bright
I swear it must be heaven's light...
Quasimodo believes in hope amid his apparent hopelessness. He believes in the possibility of heaven's light even for someone such as he. He dares to dream when all his dreams have never come true. He has not given up. He is patient for what may or may not come. He does not grasp or grope at the stars that litter the darkness of his world. He admires. He yearns. He longs. He hopes that there is something for him still.
Frollo:
Beata Maria
You know I am a righteous man
Of my virtue I am justly proud
Beata Maria
You know I'm so much purer than
The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd
Then tell me, Maria
Why I see her dancing there
Why her smold'ring eyes still scorch my soul
I feel her, I see her
The sun caught in raven hair
Is blazing in me out of all control
Like fire
Hellfire
This fire in my skin
This burning
Desire
Is turning me to sin
It's not my fault
I'm not to blame
It is the gypsy girl
The witch who sent this flame
It's not my fault
If in God's plan
He made the devil so much stronger than a man!
Protect me, Maria
Don't let this siren cast her spell
Don't let her fire sear my flesh and bone
Destroy Esmeralda
And let her taste the fires of hell
Or else let her be mine and mine alone
Hellfire
Dark fire
Now gypsy, it's your turn
Choose me or
Your pyre
Be mine or you will burn
God have mercy on me
God have mercy on her
But she will be mine
Or she will burn!
Frollo believes in his own righteousness. He believes he has walked the right path and is entitled to something more than what he has. He envies. He desires that which he cannot touch, the flame that is Esmeralda. He believes that after everything he has done, after all the good he has lived, he deserves more. He would go as far as the fires of hell for a taste of the flame that he does not have. He would turn to sin.
I am teetering in between.
I hope within the darkness of hopelessness, the endless pit of despair. I want so desperately to believe that there is still something out there to keep on looking for, to keep on looking forward to. Hope is an openness to tomorrow. But is there a tomorrow for me? No matter how open I am to it, is it even there? Is there something more, something to make this cold, dark tower seem bright? I believe in hope. I believe that the will to live is the strongest, that it can sustain even those at rock-bottom. And so I am still alive. What sustains that will to live are all the things I already do have; the things that I care about, the people I care about, and, more importantly, those who care about me. Ah yes. Those who care about me. They hold greater weight on my life than those that I care about simply because what affects me affects them. These things can very well sustain the will to live.
On the other hand, I am tortured by envy. I look and see what I don't have, what I will never have, what I will never be. I dwell on my failures, my disappointments, my losses - I cannot see myself as anything more than them. I am the emptiness left behind by that which I don't have. The emptiness suffocates me like the vast emptiness of space. I grope desperately for something, for more, for a break, for a way out. In my desperation, I am entertaining thoughts of sin, I am negotiating with what the devil has to offer, I am turning away from a God that allows such desperation. I tell myself that I've been good enough to deserve so much more. I feel entitled to more than what I have. And yet God does not give them to me, so I spurn him. Sure, I have been gifted by so many beautiful things - friends and people who care - but there are things I want, things I desire that go beyond the givens.
I am torn apart by the forces of each side, crushed beneath the debris of broken dreams and shattered hopes, pushed to the edge by desperate longing and a longing for that which I cannot touch. Peter Pan is alive, but is forgetting how to fly. Hook is waiting to take over, but is still fended off by Peter Pan. The war rages on. It's driving me into madness.
Hahaha... I think I've made things even more confusing. I've not shed any light on anything. Suffice it to say that while I see heaven's light and all the beauty and happiness it offers, I am imprisoned by everything I am. I cannot bask in the light. On the other hand, the fires of hell are warm. They offer momentary comfort to a broken, disappointed man. I am, after all, only a man. I cannot hope forever. I'm beginning to thing it's better to burn in the fires of hell than wait endlessly in the cold for the warmth of heaven's light. |
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