Photo by Farid Askerov on Unsplash
Journey Through the Realms of Night
Two days after the moon was full
I walked as in a dreaming.
Over the black seas I yearned to be,
Where the old stars were still bright and gleaming.
The Waning King invited me
To brave the baleful black billows,
To arrive at his domain, fair and free.
To traverse the lands of wailing willows.
And thus beyond the vast forests,
Ones above, alike those below,
I trod through the vile dread torrents,
Of which no dead nor living know.
Over many quaint and forgotten skies
My journey through dreamscapes wild soon took me;
To ageless lands of all the wise,
Where forlorn kingdoms fell as scree.
And their fall was as an endless cascade,
Eternally bound to dance and frolic,
But their numbers - never unmade...
Alas! ‘tis so melancholic!
Awe found not on any bookshelf,
Far Palaces turned to a river!
A fiery gash in life’s fabric itself,
I stood in awe and started to shiver.
The journey I ceased, afraid to go on,
Lo! a man-like thing suspended nearby,
I looked to his face and questioned him so,
That Bright-visaged Prince, hanged all awry.
‘Oh tell, pray tell, what thine lost name might be?’
‘Fallen, Orion, Shemyazaz – they say to me!’
‘Oh tell, pray tell, why art thou here thus hung?’
‘I wronged the Old One, when the world was still young!’
‘Say, do say, why’s your voice such a bellow?’
‘The Prince of Comets’ voice must reach all his exiled fellows!’
‘Say, do say, would you happen to be wise?’
‘Aye, even among mine; your kind I’ll easily advise!’
‘Then tell, oh tell, how could it be?’
‘Ask, ask quickly, what lore would you ask of me!’
‘How to the Waning King’s invite can I respond?’
‘Ha! A mortal in the court far beyond!
A good jest is a joy in captivity
Rare comes to me such excuse for festivity.
So hear me, hark and imbibe all that I will now say,
Will might there be. Possibility? Nay.
Think not that the Bright One took you for a jest
When you saw his reflection and thought yourself blessed
His intentions were pure
But other forces of old made sure
His brightly lit halls
With bejewelled walls
That lie so afar
In the grave of a star
Are forever out of reach
And reserved for naught but speech!
What you see’s but reflection
A dead light’s brief resurrection
Of an Aeons old tale
Where the Shining Ones came down like a hail!
For this account you can trust my words,
By neither swift blades nor maddened herds
Shall this ruling ever be vetoed...’
I noticed a change - slight shifting in his eyes.
Not a threat, not even an anger nor lies.
Rather, a sadness born in some long forgotten sighs.
Seems even to the sacrosanct melancholy applies.
‘So go, go on now, do not do as I once did,
Your chosen path in impossibility is hid!
I won’t tell ye “weep not” for not all tears are an evil
It is well to yearn so much in the face of the primeval!’
Thus I was back, under cold and dark sky,
All left of the Prince - far blinking of eyes.
Waning King - gone; again was he the moon,
The curtain of clouds would fall on him soon.
Joy marred with sorrow forever shall be,
This mere reflection - all that’s left for me.
But even diminished - an awe unmatched,
And there’s joy knowing it was once attached
To that greatest of Tsars
Ruler of the night skies!
Under that tomb of all man's ambitions,
Where I now wander, and thus I wonder...
Mind-full-ness
I lay in a meadow, under the azure sky
Betwixt myriad flowers and scents,
And in my mind...
Why would I ever speak of it?
Why, when all around living constellations bloom,
And beneath the endless firmament we sit?
And why would anybody care
When around stretches so far
The microcosm of the woods so fair?
Why would I or you dwell on my mind
When the light breeze
Brings the brisk smell of dew?
North
And from the Dome of Heavens
Poured forth the branch-sorrow
Illuminating the far bones of Ymir.
I saw the sea’s tongue washing their roots.
And lo! I beheld this all from the vessel-white
Carried on the foamy synapses’-black,
Of a mind so old, so cold...
And I – as a thought,
As a whisper of a thought.
And they carried me...