From Our Home

On the edge of my seat 

Like the edge of a cliff

From a mountain

Way up high

If not for way up, why

Must we obsess over the sky 

Going beyond it

And to the stars

To try

Only to get closer and closer

But further and further from our home

If not to make one anew

…Falling Yet Again

I am falling yet again

Into the depressed state

When even the sun seems cold

As do peoples’ stares

And glares

Along with any word uttered

Only to mutter

For reassurance

I am teeming 

With a darkness I do hate

For I do not have hatred for many things

Tis only fate

I have it for fear

For fear of all things 

Is paranoia

Of life itself

What a life to live

Of being afraid

Of what has already happened

And what is yet to come

It must be a living hell





The Kindled

The Kindled are those whose souls have been extinguished.

Where once they were The Embered

Whose souls were once ablaze

Tis death that brings The Embered to their kindled state

When darkness overcomes the flame

Choking it, until it suffocates

To nothing but a flicker

The Embered soul is lost to the unknowing abyss

That is death’s kiss

And The Kindled ichor

The Embered

The Embered are but grown children

They know not of their own power

Of the raging flames that are their souls

But in their hour –

Time shall cease

As The Embered grow into adolescents 

Becoming conciouss of their place

And in haste

Making up for lost understanding

When they were younger

The fire inside

Rages on

As The Embered are forced to hide their souls ablaze

The Embered are but children

Searching, lurking for a place to fit in

With thoughts blazing

In the case that an Embered should pass

His brothers and sisters shall carry the Kindled ash

And lay them to rest in parent’s tombs

As is The Embered life

As is the Kindled too

Meditation I

There are certain things

That make life most uncertain

And these certain things 

Will certainly pull the curtain –

Over the eyes of those most unsuspecting

Where concepts of death

Are trudging upon our doorsteps

Each and every day 

Those who pray

Are often met with prayers unanswered

As cries of dissent

Turn into God’s name slandered

And those who cried

Shall burn in hell

And this is why I am most certain

That uncertainty is certainly a spell

Like a curse that is natural