These darkened skies, that cling overhead Will not dull my heart full of hope. As I wander through these fields of life. “Don’t warry, I’ll stay with you.” I hear a voice speak, kind and hopeful “We can do this together.” The skies now pour, like a mourning lover. But still, we continue further As we wander through these fields of Hope. Those who wish us ill, block our path. “Don’t worry, I’ll knock their heads off!” I hear a voice proclaim, strong and brave. The sky black and starless, devours all the light. “Don’t worry, we’ll stay by your side.” As we continue together through the night. We navigate together, like hopeful seeds Wanting to burst from underneath Trekking these fields of Hopes and Dreams.
Non-Pagan
Flower of the Slums
Under the light of a broken church. A flourishing garden bathes in the rays. Tended to by a visage of beauty. She shines brighter than the sun. In the gutter of these slums. A flower still blooms. The scent of lilies follows her As she sweeps over the rubble, they call home She brings with her a magic Magic that is not for humans to behold Magic that can cure the most grievous of wounds Magic that can comfort the most broken She is a daughter and a friend A lover and a mother sometimes too She meets so many and loves them too But she is fleeting Like the flowers she tends Cherish her so and protect her well For the Flower of the Slums still blooms here
Dearly Beloved – Destiny Trio
Young boy, whose destiny is cradled in light. You stand at the precipice of fate, time and time again. You wield your light of innocence like a weapon. Unlocking every heart like a door. You are Dearly Beloved. Young girl, whose destiny is intertwined with the hearts of others. You wait at the edge of the shore. Waiting for your memories of love to return. Hoping against fate to see them once more. You are Dearly Beloved. Young man, whose destiny is shrouded in darkness. You fight to keep those demons at bay. Stoic and strong, yet kind and soft. You only wish to see your beloved hearts again and hold them away from the dark. You are Dearly Beloved. Dearly Beloved, Children of Destiny. Never lose your hope even as the dark creeps in. Your light will shine and guide you back home. Back into each other’s arms once more. Dearly Beloved.
Mourning Tears
With this broken heart, I cry. I cry for something that will never return. I cry for myself, for I will never be the same. These tears are mourning for who I was. For whom I wanted to be. For the years that have been stolen from me. The mourning never ends. There are times that it feels fleeting. There are times it feels surreal. Yet nothing seems to stem the grief. Not the love of family. Not the support from friends. So, I cry alone. Mourning who I used to be. Before all the pain and the pills. Before I as broken in two. I cry for the old me. For she had so many dreams she wanted to achieve.
White-Winged Demon
Trigger Warning: Implied assault, Implied sexual assault.
There is a demon that haunts me. It stalks the dark corners of my mind. And it takes joy in my pain, relishing it. They are so beautifully cruel. Appearing with wings of white and porcelain skin. Its tongue and face equally beautiful and hideous. Their smile malicious, eyes dark as void. Its every word are drops of venom that it happily spews. And its touch is withered and rigid, I cannot avoid it. They come to me every night. It lays in my bed and sits in my chair. To remind me that they are here. It wants to take me, I refuse. But it does so anyway. Again, and again, I struggle and cry, fight and lose. They hold me down, and it takes its bile covered blade, And it plunges down inside of me, It pierces my chest. “Worthless, pathetic” “Ugly, disgusting.” “Stupid, talentless.” Those words slide from its lips. They slither down the blade, seeping into my heart. My torment and suffering are its succor. My strength leaves me, and I succumb to it. It has its way with me, it delightfully violates my being. My sorrows are its nourishment. As I lay there defeated. I hear a voice call to me. Its cuts through the silent blackness. It ignites a tiny spark. “Do not stop, please.” “You cannot give up.” As the voice urges me. The tiny spark grows brighter. Now a glowing ember. “Compassion” it whispers. I offer it to my tormenter, kindness, loving words and compassionate thoughts. It recoils, screams and thrashes. But I persist. The glowing ember now a full flame. I continue my kind onslaught. The beautiful flames finally consume it. It is gone for now. And I am left alone in a temporary peace.
The Midgard Wyrdo 