Tag: writer

Timeless Visage

It has become
difficult
to move past you.
I see you
in her.
And in her.
And in her.
Not because
you were good to me.
Not because
I still feel for you.
Or because
of what we’ve said
to one another.
But because
you are an ever-present
wraith
that lingers
behind every potentiality.
I see you there
warping the future
to your twisted design.
You did more
than destroy me.
You took any future
I may have had
and poisoned it.
This is how it could be,
I hear you whisper
in my ear.
Just like how it was with me.
The heartbreak
of a million futures
weighs upon me.
Perhaps
there is no end
to this haunting
and solitude
is all that awaits me.

~LT

Refract

What truly inane creatures
human beings are.
They pray to Gods they do not believe in,
beg for miracles without the slightest mote of faith,
and dare to dream of magic
without conviction that they will find it.
I have seen more people
hurt the ones they love,
in the name of love,
than I have seen people
love without limit
without obligation
without compensation.
Love is not something to barter with
nor is it a tool used to inflict pain
and grief
and loss.
The problem lies within ourselves.
We are given
at birth,
a choice.
To be an instrument of Harmony
or Discord.
To say that we are victims of circumstance
robs us of our power to change.
There lies no salvation
in the path of eternal victimizing.
It is only when we cast the same
harsh, critical eye
that we use so fluently on strangers,
upon ourselves
can we ever hope to rise,
to transcend above the Shadow within.

It is in our destiny to change.
To rise above
or to fall below.
It matters not to me
which you choose
but know that the choice
is yours.

And yours, alone.

~LT

Disparity

You think that you know her
because you have seen her bare
but there is more to her
than just the flesh you have become
so enamored with.

You wouldn’t know it
because you care not to look,
but she has a scar just beneath her chin
that she tries to hide.
She got it when she fell off her bike
because her father was never there
to teach her
and her landlady could never quite
find the time.

You ‘love’ the sensuous curve of her thighs
in her favorite pair of jeans
but do you know that it’s to hide
the cuts she left upon herself
when the mother she so desperately needed
was off in the arms of another pathetic excuse
for a man?

Do you have any idea
the caliber of demons she fights
every goddamn night
because every friend she ever had
had given her another excuse
to give up on mankind?

Do you notice the way her soul just
crackles with life
when she is deep in her favorite book
or the way her nose
that she always thought was too big
will puff up when she is upset?

Can you even fathom
the walls she has lowered
for you to call her something as base
as
“hot”
or
“cute”?

No.
No, you cannot.
Nor do you really even care.
All you see is the pinnacle of flesh,
and all I see
is more.
So much
more.

This is the difference between us.

~LT

Thaumaturge

As a child
I knew not the ways of the world.
I could not foresee the inordinate amount
of cruelty that runs rampant
in the hearts and minds
of those we call brothers
and sisters.
We write off our disdain for one another
as “just the way the world is”
or
“this is what was done to me.”
I truly pity those individuals,
for there is not a cure in the world
that can save their feeble Light.

I saw the suffering
and plight of others
and prayed to the Cosmos
for their salvation,
but to no avail.
I shouted from the highest mountaintops
for the Heavens to spare them from themselves
for they know not what they do
to one another
and all that I recieved
was silence.

And thus, a darker bargain
I did happen upon.
I asked for Wisdom
and in ebony robes
did I become swathed in,
creating the Mantle.
I would bear the curse of this world
to save itself from it,
and so,
I came to know suffering.
I came to know pain
and heartbreak.
I came to know cries of anguish
unto which silence would respond
with nothingness.

And in the emptiness of the self
did I find the answer;
my inner shadow.
From its lips came words,
and these words,
like the moon,
would guide my hand
weaving intricate lines of power.
I have gone by many names:
magician,
wizard,
and miracle maker.
I am all of these
and none.
I am a thaumaturge
and my power
is words.

May your Light uphold Harmony.

~LT

Seethe

Like many before I,
I tread the thicket of enlightenment.
Always seeking
never reaching,
the Light.
I poured myself into countless tales
of those who achieved the Light,
and though I have mastered the ways of the Earth,
the presence of mind still escapes of me.
An anomalous side-effect has presented itself to me
after many years of meditation and ruminating.
A stark, fiery, nearly uncontrollable
anger.
This rage would exhibit itself in seemingly random fashion
and I cannot state from whence it came.
I am puzzled
for is not the very purpose of meditation
to find peace?
Instead, I found myself incensed over trifles.
I do not find my being to be particularly wrathful,
though from time to time,
even I am capable of lacking
restraint.
And there comes to mind
no single moment
where I was wronged to such an extent
that would warrant this unbridled hatred.
Could it be I have carried this ire
from another phase?
That maybe, I had become brimmed with fury
in the previous cycle,
that even upon Purification,
it escaped unscathed?
Perhaps.
Another potentiality is that it reflects the stoic nature
of my soul.
I do not waste time dealing with matters of the self,
and thus,
these build and build until there is no other option
but cataclysmic meltdown.
Perhaps.
If it is true what they say,
that he who angers you
conquers you,
what does it say
when the one who angers you
is yourself?

~LT

Mindscape

I found myself again among the ashen dunes
of the land I once called home.
Dismayed to find that even in this
ethereal form,
the Mantle still traveled with me,
I drifted gently over the alabaster sands.
Time does not exist in this hallowed space,
a facet I was still growing to truly comprehend.
A modicum of thought spent here
could span across many lifetimes spent
on the Blue,
so my outings were
brief,
to say the least.
I came across a rather insignificant crater,
shallow in depth,
by no means worthwhile,
and yet I discovered profound meaning
in which the Light’s rays were reflecting
upon the pearly grains of sand.
At the correct angle,
the crater became a mirror
and my own visage I did see.

Curse this Mantle, I thought wistfully.
It was here I was meant to find truth,
to find a way to rid myself of this ebony Mantle.

“Perhaps it is you, who is still too naive,” uttered the crater.

Were I to know of your inclusion in this place, I would have rightly
rid myself of it, I snapped.

“Don’t get uppity with me, young thaumaturge,” the land answered, clearly irked
from my tone. “You knew all too well the consequences that awaited you when you
accepted the Mantle. And now you wish to shirk it so soon? I would have thought beings from the Blue were made of finer stuff.”

This conversation taxes me, I reply with a sigh.

All I had desired since I came to this place
was a way to rid myself
of the pains and sorrows of my soul.
I asked for wisdom,
and the Mantle
black as Hell,
obliged.
But there is nothing but ruination
and misery
in knowing.
I suppose it is true what they say;

Ignorance is bliss.

~LT