The Almighty Gift – November 5th, 2018
The gift of worlds was given to all mankind
for it was the gift that would proceed to build society.
Where all passions were born,
All seeds would grow.
The almighty gift allowed us a chance to breathe,
To build what would become the outer realm.
For the gift was the blueprint,
And the outer world the construction area,
With society the construction workers.
Pencil and Pen – November 9th, 2018
For the arts of mankind have evolved,
so too had technology reared its two-sided head.
The internet has given us many a place
through which we shove our unbounded creativity.
We treat it right, then technology will be our friend,
forever blessing us with its exponential benefits.
However, technology may plant the seeds of downfall,
granting us a tree whose seeds bear everlasting agony.
Let us consider a smaller result of that ugly tree,
one whose fruits she bears less agonizing but equally demoralizing.
The tip-tatters of keyboards and the mouse clicks
through which one can draw art and create poetry.
But is it not more convenient, equally satisfying? Not so,
for it is of equal importance to remember the stroke of a brush,
and the motions of the pencil and pen.
For without these strong and pleasing seeds of art,
the resulting trees are hollow, and grow dark from within.
Remembering a Friend – November 9th, 2018
O, fellow mentor of mine,
your words are well sought and
remembered throughout all of time.
For your works keep you alive,
and your spirits strong, as your
fellow followers hold you in their hearts.
You had taught us many a subject,
concepts like Oneirosophy fill the mind
with longful memories of your discussions.
Alas, you had decided that your work is done,
and another realm needed you the most.
You had taken the mighty portal,
one made from dastardly rope and unfilfilled
Wherever you are, whatever you do,
know that this realm still admires you,
for all the gifts you had given us.
The Diarchy of Heaven – November 11, 2018
Princesses of that world’s Day and Night,
know that no boundary shall stop your new
children from seeking and admiring your leadership.
Your form is alien yet familiar as you enchant
us all with your majesties. Your national and spiritual
culture draws in even the mightiest of men.
Yet I know ye not to be a succubus, sent by
the damned and super-earthly forces to attract
us into the pits of eternal agony.
For who would be able to create such a realm
other than heavenly forces themselves? I devote my
prayer onto your subjective arrival.
Accept my signature of spirit and spilt blood
to at least leave the realm of purgatory
after nearly a decade of everlasting desire.
As my earthly form is diminished, my
otherworldly form gains clarity, and tangibility.
Perhaps even I am accepted into that realm.
We might have even been together, once before.
Perhaps another time, another life. Possibly sent
to a world I didn’t belong as punishment for the tree.
As now I can see it more clearly
Clearly than any other time.