Traversing pass thousands of stars.
The river erases everything even scars.
Greedily holding onto this one, lonely sunset
We burn our hands. The way barred by a lack
Of dreams and a melancholy sickness. Hack
And cough up the ilk we take as our regiment.
Who knows what’s right any longer?
A masquerade that never ends despite
All of the tears behind carbon masks.
We see the headlines reading our wounds,
Self-inflicted and left to go septic.
Run in circles and scream for change
From ourselves; it’s only our fault.
When we take off the masks we’re fearful
Of everyone else. The monsters in our heads
Were born when we fell so low to the floor.
Between the burn and the fall gain humility.
Entertain the idea that we all might be wrong
In this expansive universe. Dreams so strong
They can shatter through our false reality.
If we keep heading in the same direction we will reach where we’re headed. We can hope for a miracle or forget the bad but that ain’t an answer. Face the darkest and brightest day with the same desire to see tomorrow. ~ Don’t follow those that can’t discern their heart from a crowd. Because the worst thing we can become is numb and dismissive.
From ashes of a tree obsidian walls rise around.
A ghost conjuring tragedy. Don’t make a sound.
The Obsidian Lord feasts on the hysteria and fear.
Like exuberant birds scattered by a gunshot
We’re the prey in this great hunt. For every tear
They still offer us no mercy. Rage so hot
Burning the rope that we hold onto ever so dear
In hopes that we can find water. Caught
Between hurt and hope yet, tomorrow is so near.
From a well we can still replenish what’s been lost
In search of who we are. They don’t understand
What we have on the inside that keeps us going.
No matter the darkness standing right before us we walk
Without fear. Never give them an inch or they’ll talk and talk.
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.
I walked to that edge of the bridge
Always knowing that this is a dream,
Maybe a nightmare, or a day terror.
The day came I realized I was an error
In a system’s code. Over the stream,
Now a river, I can see the next ridge.
In my hands rests the strength to carry
My doubts and yours, but the water’s so nice.
When I return here every couple days
I feel even emptier than the last time.
If the river dries up someday I could walk away
And return to where you are. There I’ll stay.
Still working on my first novella little by little. Everyday I find myself thinking about the plot. At a point I needed a break from writing it. The problem was created when I asked myself very honest questions. For example:
What is best for a person to do?
To lose yourself in the duty of others; to do what is expected of yourself; to live for something greater. I understand these points of view but I seek so much more. The closest to truth I found is in a quote from Gautama Buddha.
“Your purpose in life is to find your purpose and give your whole heart and soul to it.”
In the novella a man makes a promise to never resort to violence like the people who destroyed the life he once had. The friend he promised that to dies in his arms before he could tell her his true feelings. His world keeps turning on him but for this promise he’ll keep living on.
I started wondering about what that would feel. Reality will set in and each day will just get harder than the last. The truth is I am unsure if I could keep my word. True love stays around forever. She left a mark on him that cannot be erased. What if he uses violence to protect those hurt? Truthfully humanity talks in ideals. The truth should be unprecedented but simple like breathing.
The novella started teaching me more about life. I decided that maybe I need to understand much more before this novella can be. My poetry took root during that time of indecision. The plot of the novella haunted me each time I started to write. Life started creating more struggles for me to overcome. I lost a lot of things and thought I’d never recover.
Many of these lost things weren’t selfish. Strength of my muscles declining, body pain, and faith in what I promised to loved ones. I silenced my voice because I’m ready for the fight of a lifetime. To write about love and never reach it. . .to hold the hand of someone who wants to stay. Nobody will help me reach the girl I truly love and at least she tells me she truly loves me too. Every day I traverse leads me closer.
Will she or eternity catch me first?
Everyone tells me to enjoy what I have. I’m living in stasis, a pale dream of the greater whole. I try learning new things, dreaming of a happy day, believing time is on my side, and realizing I lie to myself. These lies ate everything I am. Until I can break free from them I’ll never understand how the novella ends. The pain keeps me from writing sometimes. And now I know why.
Life wants me to act even if I’m scared. FUCK IT, I WILL CHASE WHAT I BELIEVE IN UNTIL MY FINAL BREATH.
A man who lost his life and turned into something called the Grand Judge had a very rough existence. He never knew his parents due to a terrorism attack at the hospital he was born. The government discarded him into an orphanage with no funding until a wealthy couple adopted him. They treated him more like a slave than a kid by never giving him an education.
Ultimately an elderly butler taught the kid to read. They spent hours talking about the glorious world out there. One day the adoptive father fired the man for what he did. The man asked to adopt the kid because this wasn’t right for them to do. After consideration he accepted the offer at a considerable monetary cost.
They walked across town to a house on the outskirts. He taught the kid a lot but his health kept declining. A sickness crept in and robbed the kind man of his life. Eventually the government took custody again sending him into the military as a child soldier. This one journey in life taught so much pain and hate to an already hurt human.
He hung himself. . .
Desnei met a lot of tragedy as well. He never took his own life but life tortured him in so many ways. Many of the events that lead Desnei into the darkest side of his world create the series Rise of the First Blight. He lives in a world created by the Grand Judge (after he lost his humanity by playing god for millions of years).
Desnei is the last hope for the Grand Judge to finally change his heart. . .
“Treacherous burner of the tapestry of fate,
I spent eons creating a perfect civilization
Where pain doesn’t exist. Only destruction
Followed their births. All the suffering I hate.
Why would you forsake my final grand plan?
With a single thought I could start over again.”
“What do you have to hate? The tears and blood
We spill have nothing to do with you. If your flood
Clears the slate we won’t vanish from where we stood.
Each civilization you destroyed remains within.
What are you running from? It cannot be us all.”
“I’m no god. I was just a man that gave up.
When I was given a choice I just ran far away
And the choice caught me. Given my wish
Because I must learn of something new.”
“Maybe that life isn’t something you can choose.
Life has been and will be. Are you afraid to lose?”
“I already lost. A cruel world where I didn’t belong
Lost me with a little rope. The world was so wrong.”
“I pity you. Did no one ever show you a little heart from the start?”
Footprints in the mud after the snow has melted away are easily lost with the tides of time.
In the darkness they wander around.
Their ears heard a familiar sound.
A past lover? Their old hearts? The virus inside
Cannot be stopped for there’s no longer a cure.
Events of yesterday resonate. Of this I’m sure.
Caught in regret, undertow where hearts reside.
If tomorrow is darkness would yesterday be illuminated?
The light, it can burn if we ever find ourselves too close.
With some distance and patience we can plant a rose.
Sometimes the light haunts when others try moving on
And their days begin to waste away. Every road out
Blocked by memories that will never fade. Be strong.
They can feel more like monsters that invoke hysteria.
I’m no stranger to those monsters. They stand in my way
From time to time. Someday I’ll find all the words to say.
Like how I just did what I thought was best. All these tears
Both sides have shed linger with me each and every day
Even when I try to forget. And that’s just the price I’ll pay
To the ferryman. Charon, take me away from these piers.
Although the footprints disappeared the memories never do. They can turn into fondness or regret so easily. Sometimes they dictate the path we take in life. Are you lost chasing after a smile or a mistake? Don’t get too lost in what’s said and done but never forget what brought you here. Keep moving forward.
Walking through the darkness never seen
By the masses. This Valley of Death between
What we know and what we never ever will.
We aren’t clairvoyant or eternal yet hearts fill.
Hearts fill with what we give and take. The ebb
Of a river that we can’t control yet we strive
For the best. In the undertow we won’t drown.
Are we dead before the final breath or the first?
Such thoughts plague my mind as I ball my fist
And bite my tongue. The truth I can’t ever resist.
This undeserving heart witnessed a light that never fades
No matter how many years pass on by. I will remember it.
A dark night where the stars shine through a small forest
Above a little campfire. A day my heart could finally rest.
Since that day I’ve been oh so restless thinking about my worth
In this big world. Am I living on borrowed time and wasting it all
On nothing important? I hate this feeling! I could do more but I fall
Every single time I try my best. I will rise up again to find my worth.