The Creators of Fate: Humanity

I walk among statues of the people I swore I’d defend. They all stare at the center of the city, the Citadel of Lost Dreams. A group of cloaked men walk to the entrance but stop to look at me. One of them in the back touches their shoulders making them collapse lifelessly. Shadows cover his face and still I could see his eyes. In his eyes radiates a white, illuminated fury.

When a darkness manifests from our hearts
Into existence it’s a blight of the World Tree.
We tried living on green plains and to be free
But we burned it all away. The story repeats.

Twelve blights forsake the roots fighting to live
Among desiccation. We only take and never give.

So will you change before it’s too late?

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It takes just one act to change everything. . .

Of These White Flames

I spoke the lost truth born from the Loom
Of Woven Lies to avoid impending doom.

The reality we’re all too afraid to take witness,
But it’s there within the heaviness of our hearts.
Inside there is a war we wage that’ll never end
Because we never learn. I stand guilty as well.
My heart left calloused from attempts to see
While still blind. Words others said resonate
Like birds singing yet they’re nowhere now.

Why did they lie? I’m left here hung by their words,
My noose; the condemned convict left for the crows.
All I did was ask for the truth then they took swords
Against my existence. “All the stones a giant throws.”

I’ll burn in white flames until we can see eye to eye.
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The Halls of Time

What was once illuminated falls
Into shadows now. Fate calls
Back everything to these halls.

The choices all lead back to here, have no fear.
We have been here before and so we return
To the ethereal. Dynamic goes static. Changing
Medium by which we perceive all of existence.

Unable to return the same we exemplify all we know.
Destination doesn’t matter. Our memories aren’t snow.

They don’t melt away. Good and bad we face the truth
Of space time yet remain oblivious about higher planes.
I’ll show you the halls of time where nothing ever dies. . .
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The Earth, Reprieve from Ourselves

Shattered blades and broken hearts
Are all that we see on this battlefield.

Burn in the flame and tame the desires
Growing within like wild fires. Up the spires
We chase music of lyres but we’re all liars;
Spreading fires among all of our mires.

Can there be reprieve from the destruction we ensue?
Branches conceal new found life. Yet hopes are so few.

Wash away the soot. We walk this new path
Through remnants of wrath. Hey do the math
And see the truth. We burned just for warmth.
Let go of wrath it blinds us to the free Earth.
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The Eternal Dream

Glyphs; symmetrical alchemical radicals
Of matter and energy. Inside this DNA
We can see the simple base of existence.

The eternal dream calls to each of us by name
Yet, do we even hear it? Heads hung in shame.

Take a moment, calm down, and listen. Feel the tide,
Time slipping on by and life’s clockwork mechanisms
Ticking as gears turn. We are glyphs etched into clay.
Evolution or transmutation? The questions we all relay.

Give me a moment longer to etch who we are into the code
Of the Universe. Never forget the way it was. Just don’t erode. . .
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The Resonance of Particles Unknown

Nothing to everything, a concept born of flaws
That will always deviate from understanding.
Shatter the glass panes and dare to dream
When the answer-less questions stack up.

Somewhere between the particles in you
And those in me is a single one that vibrates
To a frequency we’ll never know. And so few
Are these seconds before this life dissipates.

Do they know how hard they make it? Passing
Through thresholds of charge. What is missing?

Energy transcends matter. The forms we take
May differ yet if you listen there’s a resonance
Like a familiar melody. Under moonlight dance
Because we know everything else is just fake.

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What’s real? The connection.

The Veritian Sepulcher

A pair of dice, a canteen half full of water,
My tattered clothes, and an aged claymore;
The items I take with myself into this minor hell.

Legends say a monastery once used this place
For burials until a necromancer cult infiltrated.
The clergy couldn’t stop them. They penetrated
Every facet of the faith until they could replace.

Eventually they created a laboratory deep underground
To reanimate the deceased, inspired by fabled liches.
Fabled. The truth is they aren’t. Two factions of the dead
Fighting for revenge centuries overdue. I’m just unlucky.

I slept sound in my home yesterday. In the late of the night they came
And dragged me to this death trap. A victim, a candidate; the same.
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Distant Skyline

I was told to listen to my heart whenever I find myself unsure.
Well I haven’t seen any certainty. This sickness with no cure.

The skies once held much better dreams and aspirations
Among wispy clouds. Silver linings, yeah, they fade away
When there’s no way to ever go back. Altitude unreachable,
At least for now I’m much too far from that calming skyline.
Evil exists even when people are blind. I couldn’t walk away.
A curse placed upon me will run its course. All I can ever do
Is fight against the fate I’ve been given. Is this my punishment?

Armies of the undead rise to meet me. Our endless war
Nothing more than a cry in the dark but we continue onward.
Dragged into these catacombs, forgotten; I still move forward
Chasing a distant skyline. Tell me this, how far is too far?

Something blocks the way back leaving me with one choice.
I must delve the dark if I want to never see memories erase.sa;bdry

The Tears Shed In Night’s Embrace

On the darkest of nights after the brightest of days
I’ll be right by your side until we can see sunlight rays.

The mark of dark I caught from temperate
Seasons festers inside. We eat the fruit
Forbidden. Outcasts t’ fall desolate
And devoid. Cast our hearts from hate and soot.

I touch a cheek so soft and yet tears drop.
Why hurt all night when light awaits ardent-
Ly? Stuck behind a wall, translate: full stop.
A fight we face together. Don’t resent.

Can I just be the wind beneath your wings?
I’ll take you higher to where the choir sings.

sa;bdry
The open group MAJI is the light of humanity. We care for everyone because we believe in the potential of kindness, goodwill, and love.

Caught Between Lethe and Phlegethon ~ Prologue

After a long and tiring journey I find myself somewhere between, between where dreams are born and choices are made. The events of my life stand in front of me like an illusion of endless mirrors but I know better. Every choice I wrought to life with my callous, shaking hands remains reminiscent of who I am. My heart beats and I listen to the melody because that’s life. Those steps I follow in stride toward a new tomorrow echo in my ears still.

Although the concept of days ends, I chase after the dawn even now. I rejoice in the willingness to continue. Why do I hold so dearly to hope like it’s instinct? My sense of self remains but there’s something off. The mirror keeps me lost between dawn and dusk. What ifs in life given brilliant illumination in the form of a mirror.

Anger, the sensation of rushing blood and chemicals, tells me I can never be those what ifs the mirror shows. I touch the smooth surface. The lives better and worse feel absent of all heart. Senseless existences could never comprehend existing. What comes of me if I accept these false lives? People should sacrifice some for greater things. I can’t do that even if it’s the right thing because all I understand is what I’ve done. There’s no going back.

I shatter the mirror with my bare fists. The glass digs deep into my knuckles, blood drips from the cuts, and a plume of glass fragments and dust remains. My rejection of possible outcomes only solidifies when I can no longer see the paths. I step on every fragment reflecting a happier me that could never be. Maybe a different me takes the other paths but I never will. Time only allows a single path. There’s a higher consciousness where I can see every option, know everything, and be a better man.

The question remains:
Will I still be me when I reach that point?

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