The eyes within. The eyes without,
The eyes that dwell within me shout:
The walls! The floors! The ceiling! Spies!
The walls surrounding! These mouths they lie!
Once they were without their sight.
Then someone taught them to see. Their blight!
A setting sun on the horizon alights,
The moon, from day, offers no respite
For eyes that should otherwise be dreaming,
In the dark free from paranoia seeming
To take hold all control and stay.
Oh! That the cursed sight of these eyes may
Blink, and from the sun take pause.
Seek the shade, sleep! Break your unwritten laws!
Gaze not back at me reflection!
You ghostly and familiar complection!
When one with his mirror takes to shouting,
It’s too far, he’s taken away laughing.
Not requiring the belief of others to be, the eyes,
From dark corners and darker dreams they, waiting, spy.
Thanks to my brother Jesse for letting me use his art on my blog. 🙂
Posted in From the shadows
Tagged complection, dark, dream, eye, mirror, Moon, poetry, reflection, shadow, shout, sun, wait, watch
To those who wait,
And those held under:
An unfair debate,
Hopes torn asunder.
Wait, at the end, a light.
But first, a path through dark.
Though there may be countless nights,
From the path I won’t depart.
Once there, such wonderous beauty
Introduces me to fate.
Glad that this has reminded me;
Good things come to those to wait.
She has passed through the gateway,
And she has won herself a shadow.
Through the cosmos that lost day,
In its oceans, in their shallows.
The knowledge there, the thirst to slake.
In her search for solace now alone.
Darkness follows, darkness takes.
There is a chill down in her bones.
A chill that says: “No darkness waits!”.
In these dark days she contemplates,
Her shadow grants her pause.
No waiting darkness, no saving light,
Remembering the shadows cause,
And cursing the gateway of the night,
And its fathomless cosmic beyond.
Temptation and promise of such knowing,
Such as none should know or respond.
She grasps and holds it closer,
Fully aware of the cost imposing.
By now she’s seen a hundred lives,
In the future, a hundred more.
The gates shadow is her soul deprived,
Does she curse that open door?
Outliving the stars themselves
She’ll curse her greatest blunder.
Just you ask her and she’ll tell.
It would have been better were she torn asunder.
Tired of living and praying for death,
Praying for death, though she can never die,
Onward with eternal breath,
With her shadow the ever prying eye.
From that fateful gate the shadow of immortality did rise,
She knew not then the price
With a second chance would despise.
She, forever on the shore of that cosmic ocean lies,
Waiting in the shallows for the universe to die.
This piece is about a cosmic traveler, who discovers a mysterious artifact, represented here by the gate, that grants omniscience and immortality in exchange for her soul. No longer being able to die she wanders the universe watching it slowly decay around her as she waits for the end of all things. Her only hope for rest being that she too will be unmade at the end of time itself.
Posted in story
Tagged cosmic, cost, darkness, die, eternal, gate, gateway, immortality, knowledge, light, ocean, poetry, price, shadow, shallows, temptation, universe, wait
I am here for the morning
I am here for the day
I am here waiting,
For when you say,
I love you, I love you,
I love you don’t change.
But I don’t have to wait,
Because you tell me each day.
A day long endured.
He waited so long to rest,
Now much needed sleep.
In my city by the sea,
To wait for what twilight may bring.
The setting sun, the moonlight sings:
“Come, there are such lights to see.”
Each light hoping for the next,
In response to them I say:
“Is there for me another way?
Or must my waiting be my trek?”
I sit and wait, and stare, and know.
Should I stand and walk the paved?
Guided by light in which I bathe? Perhaps.
I’d much rather be pacified though.
Who knows what today will bring,
My painful, mourning, anthem sings.
Is there truth that lies beyond,
In the saddness of this song?
So far so good some say is fine,
Though I dream of another kind.
A day that does not find me weary,
The spoken word I hear so clearly,
So tired of this fate befallen,
Waiting for my doom so called in.
To reach out and grasp the rope,
That lifts me higher towards such hope.
But to reach is hard, and my burden heavy,
What if my hands were to fail me?
“What If” reads the stone ‘ore my grave,
That lies open. Will I be saved?
Not for as long as I here lay,
With open arms simply waiting to be saved.