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I was a writer once. [Poetry(?)]

The Abyss of You

I can't describe what you do to me.
It feels just like insanity.
Why is it so hard to say what I feel?
Those very words are what you steal.
I'm powerless and that makes me scared.
It's never been comfortable to be so bare.
I don't like confessing what I've hidden away.
It's pushed down deep and there it should stay.
With you I can't bear it and say everything.
I say more and more--Oh, I could sing!
Let me sing for you all that I feel.
Let me make you your favorite meal!
Let me do those things that only I can do.
So long as it's only me doing it for only you.
I'm scared that I'm in far too deep.
You are an abyss, and I've taken the leap.
My direction is down, but I feel ever higher.
It has only ever been you that I long for and desire.
What more can I say? I am adrift in you.
Without paddle or direction--I haven't a clue.
But that is ok and I swear it's true.
So long as you're with me, and I am with you.

I was a writer once. [Poetry(?)]

The Empath's Pain

I have to be careful
When I look at another
If they are in pain
I could be in trouble
Pain is a maw
Poised ready to swallow
If I'm not careful
I might make it double
When I see pain
In the eyes of another
Even my sister
Even my brother
Their pain becomes mine
And I become such a wreck
I'll lash out for the hurt
Now lodged in my chest
It's not mine
It's not mine, I say
But this pain of another
Desires to stay
It's an arrow buried deep
A poison swallowed down
Deep in that maw
I just might drown
"It's not mine!" goes the mantra
My quiet, dubious plea
I'm not so sure anymore
If who's hurt isn't me

I was a writer once. [Poetry(?)]

I see you (Keep going)

May I weep for you?
Can I wring my soul
For the wrongs you have suffered?
Would you join me?
May we weep together
That pain and understanding
Might be shared?
I'm sorry, my friend.
My tears are the only
Expression I have
To show you I care
About what was done to you.
The hand you were dealt
Was unfair and unkind.
Whose shoulders were made
To bear what you have carried all this time?
Cry on my shoulder
And I'll cry on yours.
May you feel seen.
Even if for the very first time
May this not be the last.
The pain you hold in your heart
Was not meant to hold you back.
I know it hurts
But I believe in you.
When you are at the bottom
Your only choice is to climb.
Take it slow
Go at your own pace.
Look up once in a while
And let the light
Shine on your face.
Reach for it with all your might
Only an outstretched hand
Can be taken by another.

I was a writer once. [Poetry(?)]

Wormwood Series

Sunsets and Pyres: A Tragedy

Sunsets and Pyres: A Tragedy

The blacksmith begs for water.
His forge is on fire.
The villagers stand by
Overtaken by solemn silence
Believing the pyre
That presently illuminates
Their collective gaze
Is the blacksmith's
Finest work yet:
Glowing tones of sunset
Scorched and beautiful
As all his works before it.

The Standard Bearer

The Standard Bearer

A tattered ensign waves over the battlefield.
The standard bearer has not yet fallen.
Though his voice cannot be heard
Over the deafening din of battle
He wields the banner vigorously.
The tapestry bears the loudest cry:
Rally! To me, my brothers!
Our banner still waves!
If you can see it raised
Fight on! Fight on!

The Widow

The Widow

The widow tidies her home.
She works endlessly everyday.
For everyday she has a visitor.
"For whom do you toil, widow?*
Death repeats this question daily.
"For whom do you make ready?"
The widow never stops cleaning.
Alas, her home is never clean.
"I prepare for no man!"
She declares in defiance.
"I know you reap from the dust
So I remove the dust far away.
No man will sweep me away
Not even you."

The Astronomer

The Astronomer

The astronomer stares transfixed at the heavens.
"Have we been lied to?" he gasps.
The celestial host once filled the sky,
But they are rapidly winking out.
"We thought there was a future out there..."
The astronomer's voice trembles.
Hopelessness has seeped in under his collar.
Its cold grasp constricts his heart.
"The future is swallowed whole
In a cosmic abyss unending.
The light we see is no promise of hope
But endless dying screams of the celestials.
The great maw of Judgment encompasses us.
We will be one body among many to perish
And our screams will join the unholy chorus!"

The Astronaut

The Astronaut

He hangs there, feet dangling into nothing.
The oxygen hose is his only tether.
He makes no motion to pull himself back.
The darkened visor reflects distant light.
"Is everything ok? Are you alright?"
His crew checks in on him.
"They said the abyss was scary."
His cryptic answer concerns them.
They are trying to pull him in.
"They said the abyss looks back.
I thought it would be inhuman.
The eyes of a stranger...."
The crew pulls him back to the ship.
They usher him back inside.
His helmet is gently removed.
Tears were streaming from his eyes.
"Those were no eyes of a stranger.
They had faces and smiles.
When I looked in the void just now,
I could see everyone I ever lost.
They were waving at me.
They were calling me over.
And I really wish that I had."

The Pilot

The Pilot

A pilot observes a clear sky.
His aircraft explodes in his peripheral.
He ejected just in time.
His parachute deploys in vain.
He is not alone.
Gunfire tears through the air
Shredding his chute.
He is in freefall.
He understands what happens now.
Rolling over, he watches the sky.
At least it's a clear day.
He falls.
Much further than any man should.
A hand takes hold of his.
One side, then the other.
Comrades are there beside him.
"You know you can fly, right?"
The pilot realized he no longer fell.
He floated with his brothers.
"C'mon. The others are waiting."
They pull him through the air.
Higher and higher they flew.
Til all three disappeared into the blue.

Are You the One I am Waiting For?

Are You the One I am Waiting For?

I sat many days in a fallen temple
Seeking after a sign if one should be given.
It was cold and it rained some days
Pouring on my head unrelenting.
I knew not if a god might answer
With something other than silence.
After many days, my eyes were heavy
My last meal a distant memory.
I did not hear him enter
But I looked and saw a shadow before me.
It wavered and had no certain form
But I was aware of its eyes on me.
"Who do you wait for?" he asked
A hollow whisper that lacked compassion.
"I know not," I replied. "Are you not he?"
It did not answer, smoldering silently.
"Are you the one I am waiting for?" I asked.
"I can show you how to leave." he said
A subtle laughter trilled his words.
I remained silent this time.
The shade leaned in closer.
"Leave this place with me."
He was demanding now, and I was troubled.
"I don't want to leave...." I replied
Hesitating, choking on every syllable.
"You are wet. You are cold." he said.
"How many days has it been since you ate?"
His form shifted, and I knew he was reaching for me.
"You will leave with me. Come away now."
My eyes grew heavy, and I was unable to stay awake.
I dreamt of a horrible scream that faded
Into a gentle breeze that refreshed me.
When next I awoke, light shown through
Where the temple's roof had collapsed.
Sensing a presence, I bolted upright
To see a woman seated nearby.
She smiled kindly at me and looked up.
"What happened to the shade?" I asked.
Her eyes remained upward as she answered.
"Is that what you wish to ask me?"
It was then that I recalled the purpose of my tenure.
"Are you the one I am waiting for?"
She lowered her gaze to me.
"Do you not already know?
Did the thought of me not draw you here?
Did I not baptize you with rain as you waited?
Have I not kept you as you slept in my presence?
It has been I who was waiting for you."

The Farmer

The Farmer

A farmer tends to his field.
He pauses for a momentary rest.
His eyes catch something in the sky.
Wormwood streaks through the blue.
A windmill suddenly obscures his view.
It grows larger as he looks on.
"Pay no heed to the sky." says the windmill.
"Tend the ground, farmer.
No trouble shall befall you."
The farmer smiles absently to himself.
His attention turns back to the dirt.
Wormwood continues its descent.

The King

The King

A man sits in his palace.
Whited knuckles clutch the arms of his throne.
His servants mirror looks of concern.
The king is muttering to himself.
"My throne...Mine...."
An endless mantra spoken
As though it bore power to preserve.
He does not know.
Wormwood descends on his kingdom.

What Death Conquered

What Death Conquered

An army marches towards the wall.
A mournful wind sweeps the land.
Their enemies lie slain in the field.
They intend to claim their spoils.
The commander comes to a stop.
His army hesitates behind him.
A lone soldier remains at the gate.
"You stand before Death.
Why do you not flee?"
The soldier stands tall.
His sword is stuck in the ground.
"I wait for you."
A ponderous silence sweeps through.
Death gestures at his men.
"Here we are. Your wait is over."
The soldier bows his head.
Surely he accepts what is to come.
"It is not too late to run."
Death's taunting suggestion.
The wind carries it away.
The sword is pulled free of the ground.
The soldier stands ready.
"My place is here."
Death scoffs as his horse trots forward.
"Your work is done here.
There is nothing more you can do.
Let your legs carry you far away."
The sword now points at the approaching rider.
The soldier refuses to flee.
"A life is a valuable thing.
What you want to protect must be equally so.
I, Death, will take both from you."
The soldier springs forward.
The wind gathers at his back.
"I protect that which you will never touch."
Death dispatches the man without flinching.
The army proceeds through the gate.
Bewilderment is on every face.
Death and his men are back on the battlefield.
Around them are their dead adversaries.
A light overhead draws their attention.
Wormwood has found its mark.

I was a writer once. [Poetry(?)]

Thoughts of the Smoldering Banner

The melancholy of these walls
Falling amid screams of those
They were meant to protect
I stand on the rampart
The last burning banner
Becoming the ghost of an existence
That was meant to achieve
Some out of reach excellence
To my left and right lay paths
Now forever closed to me
Crumbling out from under
These uncertain feet
That had never once taken
A purposeful step towards
A goal that wasn't impulsively
Plucked from the smoldering aether
Now hovering over this burning city
My hands reach overhead
Forming fists hopeful to grasp onto
That evasive purpose of a brighter life
Fast becoming just another ember
In this oppressive smog
Formed from the spirits of dead wishes
What if, if only
What if, if only
What if, if only
Next time....

I was a writer once. [Poetry(?)]

Guilt in the Eye of the Beholder

Can you close the eye
That ever looks down upon me?
Unblinking and eternal
It witnesses my actions
Both good
And bad
I didn't mean it
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
The eye cannot hear
The profuse apologies I utter
It merely watches
Behold
The eye that knows my sin
Recorder of evidence
Container of the record of my faults
Thou cursed eye
Blink that I might breathe freely
The weight of your stare
Bears down on my facade
Crushing my feigned innocence
I weep in the night
And you watch my tears fall
Recording each drop in sequence
What have I done?
In silence I am laid bare
As your stare reflects
Accuses
And pronounces me guilty

Over and

over and

over and

over and

I was a writer once. [Poetry(?)]

Call of the Role (Player)

How is it I can hear you?
Your voice calls to me
But muffled and distant
As though speaking in a dream
Like a memory only just beginning to recollect
Who are you?
Where are you?
What do you desire?
I ask the questions
Even as the answers come to me
Did I conjure you?
Or have you reached me from
Some hidden place?
I feel what you feel
And know your desires
Even as you revealed them to me
As if they were my own
More familiar to me than a stranger
It makes me wonder:
Have I discovered some new part of myself?

I was a writer once. [Poetry(?)]

The Wine That Withheld Torment

The slain hangs aloft
His blood runs down
Filling my cup
Drink deep, O drunkard
Imbibe and share in this death
Trembling lips grasp the rim
Channel the wine
Swallow it down
The red runs deep
As do my tears
I was prepared for gall
My lips made ready to scowl
My soul was ready to suffer
This wine must needs be bitter
This body must writhe in displeasure
So the act of drinking itself
Becomes an act of penitence
Tell me then, you who hangs aloft
Why is your wine sweet?
Why do you deprive me
My most just torment?

I was a writer once. [Poetry(?)]

Those in the Stronghold

Crucifixer why do you persecute us?
Here in these halls stained red
You somehow claim to be virtuous
While so many now lie dead
What wrong have we committed?
Why are our lives forfeit?
The grief you bestow goes unremitted
Your steps come like a woeful portent
Around this corner a fresh body hangs
Another of your victims tragically splayed
At the sight I am pierced through with pangs
Am I to be the next one flayed?
Crucifixer, thou art a devil!
Let me escape with my life
Upon the throne I must revel
Save us both this strife
But, lo, even now, I hear the demon's approach
Crucifixer you have come at last!
Upon my birthright you now encroach
You think you've won, but not so fast!
Here I have made a stronghold
Your treachery cannot reach me here!
Toil away, struggle and fold
But I will forever be near

I was a writer once. [Poetry(?)]

Spring Will Come

Are the flowers blooming yet?
Did you remember they exist?
Or did you forget?
They yearn for the first spring mist
For now they sleep, quiet and courageous
Expecting the sun to return
To one day awaken in the light, joyful and boisterous
For Spring will not these sleepers spurn
Heat and sun, chill and snow
These things each have their season
Though they can tarry, this I know:
Time keeps passing for a reason