Poetry

Aughra wakes

We seek, we seek, we seek

our bodies caught in time while our minds thrust out, snap.

Around us our house gives in to rot,

our family withers

while we do anything but see them.

Yet when we suddenly wake,

ceiling crumbled over our clothes, cobwebs sewing our third eye shut,

we wonder why we cannot hear the song anymore.

Why it withholds itself from us.

What have we done

to cause this distance?

Poetry

The Darkened Heart of Thra (inspired by The Dark Crystal)

Once, they were white roots that spread

from the heart of the world,

seeping life while chanting song.

The song of the earth, the song of the people,

connected, one. Sprouts no matter the ground.

But then the heart was trampled, torn

from what it loved

to hold up what it despised.

Shadows crept into it, whispers of malice

disguised as pure intent, and it was too gullible not to see.

The roots morphed into bulging veins

filled with poison, and there they bled out.