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. . .
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?
The darkness inside lashes at my memories
In an attempt to steal who I am. It’s the mark
Burned into my flesh awaking my inner demons.
My wrath, lust, and pride slithering under my skin;
A burn that never goes away. Will they ever win?
I swallow my unsettled doubts, like pills with gin.
We don’t choose the fights we’re tossed into. Survive,
That’s what our hearts scream. Is that why I still strive?
Dark and cold black flames judge my heart to a feather.
I failed. Know that I’m not giving in. There’s a day that
I gotta see with these eyes and feel with these hands.
My wretched fate repeats day by day yet, I smile.
They call me Ariex Nightblade. I watched wars,
Witnessed genocide, killed a friend; I left
The Royal Protectorate to heal these scars.
This curse I took on instead of being ever so bereft.
My brother Synji bears the other mark.
The endarkened; the illuminated.
We serve two roles in a grand tragedy.
“The tragic world we live in held me for a while.
All tragedies must eventually end. And I smile.”
Drenched in sorrow she poured the gasoline
Over her church clothes. A lit cigarette burned
Her world to only ashes. Her friends begged
For answers but they know the dead never tell.
What came of her after that departure? Forget
Everything you know and let me create the set.
A beautiful collection of memories, the cultivation
Of the lives we live. Beings made of the Universe
Experience vastly different memories. To collect
Data a dimension exists beyond space and time.
When this voyager found her material body inefficient
Every memory transferred over. Her consciousness
Awoke in an unknown yet comforting place. On a boat
Floating over calm waters at dawn she finally sleeps.
When she awakes there’s herself she must face
Until her metaphysical wounds heal. It’s no race
Because life’s never easy and has no set pace.
What can be seen in this distant reverie? My heart
And hands failing to reach. The reality is so chilling
Like I’ve been dead or I was a corpse from the start.
Dreams given our breath can raise the dead. Only so far
Can this way take us and at a point we must take an oar.
Who would defy the flow, clear these vines, and remain?
I walk my own path. All I’m trying to do is live a life
I can believe in. No side taken even under a knife.
I’ve been broken and lost in the madness but I’ll walk
Forward in solidarity with my friends. We know what’s
At risk. That’s why we stand up even when we’re afraid.
No one can break what’s already been broken long ago.
Among shattered glass I see petals. There’s so much more
Than what has been lost in pursuit of everything we swore.
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.