The Book without Words (intro)1Resplendent-Dawn
Gothic spires twist upward, forming a grotesque forest fading into the white-blankness. Many as tall as skyscrapers, each pulsing with veins of melancholy’s blue set against the polyglot granite. Walking underneath and in-between the arched walkways where everything is the same shade. No shadow. No night. Just a stable yet vivid sourceless illumination. Each step. Each painful, agonizing step – they press forward in a calm determination. And as each footfall reaches the groundless ground, stones sketch themselves into existence as if to support Luke’s weight, only to fade away as they are left behind. But no, they do not sketch themselves into existence, nor do they appear with more substance than an artist’s impression as she plots a landscape. Rather, he thinks them into existence as they once had lived a utopia drawn in the same whiteness. He must find her. Clutching a now-crumpled sheet of paper, Luke makes his way through the forest of spires that existed
To Its Beacon Beamingthere is a musicBlackBowfin
to the way you
say my name
that breathes weight
and value into it
a timing that winds
will and magic
into my clock
and makes me
want to breathe
and i don't know
if it's how you
say it, how i hear it
or maybe some
just gets fixed
to its beacon
the jagged slip
and break of sea
but we're more
than two bodies
a bed, or dropped
we're the imprint
and its movement
we are evolution
a selective physics
in earth's own dreams
has mapped our lives
each into the other's
we'd have met and fallen
in any timeline
and for any one
of a million reasons
but never, ever, by chance
The weight of the worldIt's hard to hold the weight of the world with just one hand while the other is pinned behind your back by the ruthless demons who'd love to see you crumble.Nerdy-tomboy
All you want to do is let go and get rid of the struggle of life, but you don’t.
In the back of your mind you know there is a reason for you to live, you know there is a bright day for you waiting, something to look forward to.
So keep your eyes open and hold the world tall.
They’ll hold you next.
You're a Literal MiracleNext time you’re unhappy.Fameisdead
Think about this.
Remember that you are a walking,
You are alive based on so many chances.
So many different thing could’ve happened.
You’re still here.
You are literally made of stardust.
Matter that has been around,
Since the beginning of time.
Dreams and hopes
Forged in the belly of distant stars.
You have cosmos in your veins.
And eyes that have stardust in them,
That have seen the dawn and ending to galaxies.
I know it’s easy to forget this,
But it’s true.
Everything about you
And me and everything else around you.
Is a miracle.
So many perfect things had to come into place,
For you to be standing here today.
So smile sweet heart.
Cause you are a beautiful phenomenon
That was created by miraculous chance.
Dear SonThis is what I want you to know:Nestalgica
I am still afraid
of being the wrong sort of man,
for those who would teach me
the rules of quelling voice paid
no heed to the sestinas of boyhood.
We sustain our tired
stories past the breaks;
we write through the endstops
the way we speak over
the voices that deny our voice.
My dad never mapped
manhood for me, never told me
of the weight of our words
or the aridity of our gentle
and vacant awareness.
I am glad not
An Autumn StarDark morning, monitor bright;tirasunil
drowsy from drugs, weak and weary,
three a.m. sits uneasy with me.
I count pictures of you I'm not a part of,
chill of the moon falling on my shoulders.
It takes less time than expected.
You were so beautiful,
aloof and shining like a golden sun;
I cringe with each new revelation,
reaching out to touch your face through the screen.
Heat rises in me, apart from the cool of the night --
even with the mountain air on my breath,
your smile still does things to me I can't explain.
Maybe it's the medicine talking,
maybe it's the lateness of the hour,
or maybe it's just my imagination,
but I know things haven't changed for me at all.
You're still an autumn star I can't quite place,
just when I thought I had all the lights named.
Goodnight, I whisper, and close my eyes softly.