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The Dybbuk Sep 21
Silence doesn't come easily anymore;
we have abandoned ourselves
in favor of slot machines.
I have grown weary of spinning bells,
colored lights, and empty words.
Patience is my companion now,
and serenity follows closely behind.
I will walk the path alone,
and revel in the company of stillness,
as wanderlust guides me deeper
into the woods.
The Dybbuk Sep 21
Forged in suffering,
and quenched by discipline,
we become strong.
A wall of swords is built
at the limits of our minds;
sometimes, we ***** ourselves,
and tumble headfirst into the
desolation of sleep.
It is no matter.
Venus will disarm Mars,
the blades will turn to roses,
a crown of blooming thorns;
entrancingly beautiful,
and twice as deadly.
The Dybbuk Sep 10
In a world of my own construction,
reality bends to my will.
Ancient secrets of ancestral blood
transmute to its inheritor.
The voice of eternity whispers my name,
carried on winds of rolling laughter
to my ear, waiting.
Naive enchantment behind child eyes
is transformed into something magic,
but real; second sight becomes
second nature.
Soon, the joy behind my eyes will return,
forged in inner fire and whetted with love.
The Dybbuk Sep 7
The pattern is the pattern is the pattern is the pattern.
The universe will give you messages, transcending time and space.
You must learn faith; trust in the universe and it will trust in you.
You are master of none, but a slave to no-one and to nothing.
The Dybbuk Sep 6
Love is no longer a question of appearances.
It dwells in me now, and
slowly inflates, like a balloon filling with blood.
The passions of a dead man pulse through
blue veins. But love is not a one-way street;
still, how could one fall out of love?
My third eye is shut,
but I dream of you.
Remember how the ground lit up beneath our feet?
I cannot forget two souls intertwined,
and glowing beneath countless stars...
The Dybbuk Aug 30
At the crossroads of euphoria, faith, and insanity,
one can learn a great number of things.
But if I have learned anything, it is the malleability of a constructed reality.
Anything is possible, and so everything is permitted.
The excesses of a younger self, somewhere behind me on an illusory timeline, have enslaved me to my self. This too is an illusion, but this knowledge does not serve me; even the most powerful truths can be largely irrelevant.
I walk down all paths at once, no longer bound by habits I pretend are beyond my control, and laugh, never again a slave to anyone or anything.
The Dybbuk Aug 18
Hovering between two unstoppable forces,
I am frozen in time. In just a moment,
my atoms will be scattered. I can feel the distortion,
and I can smell my blood, and suddenly,
it is over. For an instant, my feeble consciousness pulses in the
moment of oblivion.
It is torn to shreds, and blossoms into an infinite garden.
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