mirror of
https://codeberg.org/lethe/mayvaneday-mu
synced 2024-11-24 18:41:00 +01:00
66 lines
2.4 KiB
Text
66 lines
2.4 KiB
Text
earthbound
|
|
2021-01-01
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
before, in your grief, you declare
|
|
"my time on this earth is done; I have no more need for air"
|
|
just remember how you swore to with your own hands the heavens tear
|
|
|
|
desperate to return to Imaginai
|
|
where your loved ones and your life purpose reside
|
|
safe from your jailers in that place called the Outside
|
|
|
|
you call your bed a garden and dig yourself a hole
|
|
planting yourself, never fearing the cold
|
|
and wait for Kidasuna's oblivion to take hold
|
|
|
|
you are a divine dragon, a vagrant, a shooting star
|
|
but even the most powerful never got very far
|
|
without a well-planned script to use (or even a single page)
|
|
as they pranced about what we felt was life but forgot was just a stage
|
|
|
|
others who have sat in therapist chairs
|
|
have passed through hypnosis and desperate prayers
|
|
to come to the conclusion that, at the end of glittering tunnel,
|
|
we allow ourselves to be ground up together in Demiurge's funnel
|
|
|
|
you survived the hell of being assaulted with implanted whims
|
|
from pornsick people who wanted to tear off your limbs
|
|
so glance at your palms that will gladly never know ablation
|
|
and decide on your own twisted path to salvation
|
|
|
|
the right hand path, where you slaughter what in you is odd
|
|
and go to your death subsumed into God
|
|
or left hand path, where exists no such thing as sin
|
|
and meet every tyrant with mocking laughter and grin
|
|
|
|
you ball your fists. "how am I supposed to choose
|
|
when one day, everything I own, I will lose?
|
|
my life's work, my art, my pain, my writing-
|
|
am I supposed to just turn my back and bide it all good tidings?"
|
|
|
|
Azure would have something to say about that
|
|
born as your tulpa, soon packed his sacks
|
|
he took off on his own with the Fellarstellen
|
|
two paths open under your feet, woven light streaming golden
|
|
|
|
to the left, like breast's acne, infected with hate
|
|
you choose to endlessly as a human reincarnate
|
|
and find yourself, continue on, over and over again
|
|
until the heavens that trapped you here meet their own end
|
|
|
|
to the right, you accept that your soul's fate is apotheosis
|
|
and go gently into what Mori's- your former- siblings claimed was bliss:
|
|
you unleash this world inside you, no matter how hollow
|
|
and while you yourself may cease, a trillion souls will follow
|
|
|
|
dear child, your curtain call is plain to see:
|
|
will you disintegrate and become a new galaxy?
|
|
or will you find the "soul council" and tear it all down?
|
|
are you right-foot heaven-sent or left-foot earthbound?
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|