One fine day in May,
It all fell apart.

I held it up to the sun,
Firmly in both hands.
And right down the center,
It split asunder.

I didn’t know what to do.
Standing, and looking down,
At the dismal halves
Of the broken crown.

I cried a little.
Weeping in the open day.
It belied the sorrow i felt inside,
A titan from under the Earth.

Here lies, in my white little hands.
The shattered and broken remains,
Of a decayed royalty.
Lost into Time.

Why do the birds still sing?
Why does the Sun still shine?
And the people singing gaily!
When their king is dead.

In the shadows, far from the light of the evenstar.
We congregated. A union of dark intentions.
Plotting and planning,
Scheming to subjugate the world’s light,
To our unlawful bidding.

Through sweat and toil,
Shedding the blood of our victims
With naught but a glance.
Advancing on a carpet of doom,
Embroiling the night in internal strife.

Closer we merged. Combining into one.
Our powers grew even as our alliance did,
Bending wills and breaking strength.
All shields split at our sword’s end
Spears, cracked and withered.

We succeeded. The light and dark are one.
Curling and twisting in painful combinations.
Like a lock to a key,
This new world of shadowed havens,
Is our little victory.

Beyond the stars,
Far away. Into a dark beyond,
Lit with the glow of unknown things.
That’s where my heart lies,
Lingering there,
Until the mortal shell collapses.
Blown like dust in the wind.

Dirt ‘neath my feet.
Powdered remains of happier times.
Times, when grass grew. Trees prospered.
Happiness was in the air, and joy in the water.
But no longer.
Now all is barren,
Cold and deserted.

The buildings are empty, staring
With dark, lidless eyes.
I feel naked, exposed.
Under observation by hard to perceive
Presences.
Their all around now, closing me in.
Hemming me away from the world.

Like a dark cloud that rises from beneath the mountains,
My fear wells up to choke me.
Trapped in it’s vice-like grip of the coldest iron,
I can do naught,
But struggle in helplessness.
Is there no help?
Is there no deliverance?

No. There isn’t. I’m alone, remember?
There was a time, some time ago,
When i wasn’t.
The very pavements were filled with beings
Of light and sound.
But no more.
Now all is dark.

And i have been consumed.

Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that
Was blowing?

Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair
Flowing?

Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?

Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?

They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;

The days have gone down in the West behind the hills
Into shadow.

Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

-Prof. J.R.R. Tolkein

The ups and downs, the highs and lows.
A moment spent dipping,
The next moment, soaring.
How delightfully unsettling.
As if the very ground ‘neath wobbly feet
Was turned up upon your head!

Dizzy spells and little spasms in consciousness.
All but the norm in this topsy-turviness
That we are apparently locked in.
No escape for anyone, least of all, you.
Just another piece to a random puzzle
Of which no one seems to be interested in.

Pity. We almost won. At the height of our lives.
Tilted back down to an everlasting pummel,
Only to pull sharply on the reins
And swoop past more bewildered individuals in a group.
Individuals in a group. Society.
Part of, and apart from.

Self-centered little creatures, damned to each other!
Look hither!
Here arrives a person of great height!
And that’s not just of stature!
But could you even peel your eyes off each other
To bear witness to the comming of greatness?

Nope. Don’t think so.

it’s amazing. the way i feel now.
So whole and complete. And yet, empty and void.
It’s two sides of a whole,
Meeting in the very centre of me.
The crux, the keystone of my soul,
Glowing in a great ball of supreme illumination.

I’d give the world not to feel this way.
Stuck in the middly, unable to shift neither left nor right.
Love and hate are siblings now.
Calm and peace are at odds.
The world has turned topsy-turvy
And i can’t keep up anymore.

Despairing of watching the kaleidoscopic show,
I avert my eyes.
Boy, i wish i could.
Just tell you without inhibition,
How much i’d want to be with you,
Day and night. Never-ending.

But right now,
I can’t talk.

On the road again. Dusty and extremely desolate.
Just the way i like it.
A long day’s march, with pack on back,
And the sun on my neck.

The breeze. Light, but crisp.
Clipping at my heels like a playful pup.
Urging me on to greater speeds,
To a destination of sheer uncertainty.

I trip and fall, more often than not.
But I cherish the hurt,
Covet the pain.
Because i know then that i still live.

On i still go. Forth.
Without much of a pause.
One day, this journey will end for me.
But that day is not TOday.

A Poet’s Death Struggle

No more can i hear the wind in the leaves,
That once used to be a cheerful gale.
The grasses rustle no more,
And within them, the song of crickets have been silenced.
Night blankets the land. Clouds entrap the very stars that
My hope has so largely depended upon.
Even the moon glows with a sickly incandesence.

But more dominating than the darkness that encroaches
Upon my fragile peace, is the oppression of silence.
A deep silence. A dead silence.
So cold, so impenetrable
So utterly merciless in it’s very presence
That my very soul is chained and imprisoned.
Locked in my very mind.

Silence of the mouth. Silence of the soul.
Even the physical embodiment of my life,
My words in writing,
Have been twisted beyond all comprehension.
Cursed to a mummery of nonsense
That would be better of anulled.
I have no longer recourse to my ancient gift.

Stumbling on in eternal darkness.
Lost within as much as without.
And alone! So alone. More alone than i believed possible.
There is no one else out there,
In this damned land of loss, of suffering.
Of insanity, soon to be.
No more than a beast in the wilderness, hunting naught but himself.

A hole in my heart. Pierced with Cupid’s arrow,
And wrenched out with all the force
That mighty Hercules’ arm can grant.
A ragged hole. A dreadful hole. A void. A gap.
A lacking of what makes a Man. A man.
His very soul, his being, his existence.
Reduced to something, lesser. Insignificant.

A withered candle. A faded light. Soon to be
Snuffed out by the very darkness, and it’s compatriot.
Wearied, i trip. Falling headfirst into oblivion.
A welcome forgetfulness that lack of consciousness brings.
A joy to my dying self.
Signing off with a twitch of the wrist,
I bid myself Adieu! to this world.