The fish flies with fins of fire,
Following fellow friends
To the depths of the sky.
A sashay of the hips,
A flick of the fins—
Cast embers to Earth.
Melding, molding, moving—
These fish of flames flee
The wet bonds below.
Free at last, the fire fins grow.
Gold now—blue—
Brighter than the moon,
Brighter than the stars
That beckon them forth.
And so the fire fish fly with fins
And reject the world’s reality.

A thin crystal grows over the flame,
Inching up its tongues like ice.
Both burn with a raging intensity,
Contributing to each other’s pain.
The light shines through the creeping crystal,
Casting fantastic designs along the wall.
They dance in intricate choreography,
Twirling and dipping and leaping and flying.
Their lanky ephemeral forms lengthen
As the ice creeps ever higher.
The red burns low and sinks to orange
While yellow turns to gold.
Cold blue fire contributes its color—
Pale purple begins to appear.
Will the flame still burn
Within its cage of ice?
Will the crystal quell its heart
And keep it frozen for eternity?
Will the two become one,
Fusing together at last?

The O draws nearer, nearer, nearer—
Consuming, consuming, consuming all—
Swallowing the world, spitting it out,
Redevouring it
Black black gray—
Swirling swirling swirling mess
Time color images thoughts feelings
All consumed, all devoured
By the gaping maw of O
O, O, O
The owl hoots in the night
And the bats beat their leathery wings
Trying to escape the O, O, O
The night, the night—O, the night!
Dark days, dark days
Inside the pit of O—
Days dark as night, dark as the heart
That has shriveled up, withered,
Gray veins pumping sludgy shadows
Through an empty husk,
Around around around in a circle,
No beginning, no end,
No strength to break free of that
O O O

The flow of people swirls around me,
Waxing and waning and ebbing with the light.
They stand and gawk, awe frozen on their faces,
But I can only look serenely on
While my heart of marble flakes inside.
I look down upon them, those children dear,
But I cannot touch their warm flesh
Nor feel their living, breathing heartbeats,
Just as they cannot touch my frozen skin
Nor come close enough to hear my suppressed cries.
Day after day I must stand and watch
Over these lives that flick past before me.
Day after day I am reminded of the loneliness of stone.
Day after day they see nothing but a statue,
A statue without a heart or a soul,
A statue on a pedestal.

The river runs fast and swift,
Churning and boiling and frothing,
Foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal.
But inside my study, I am unaffected.
I look up as it batters at my door.
The hourglass on my desk
Has been upset once more.
It’s lying on its side, the sand askew.
I stand to fix it but my head whirls—
Must not have eaten enough,
Or must not have slept enough,
Or must not have calmed enough.
The reason matters not,
And it keeps me not from my task.
I set the hourglass back on its feet
And sink back into the cushioned chair,
Curling up once more with the tales of old.
I’ve lost track of time now—
The hourglass can only lie to me now—
And I have that river to thank.
Blasted thing.

I lead him to the gallows--
My child, my child.
I do not want to let him go yet.
Not to the gallows,
Those metal jaws of finality.
But I know in my heart
That I have to.
He's been holding my hand for a while now,
Pulling me ever closer.
I did not want to listen.
I did not want to acknowledge those gleaming silver teeth.
But, my child, you have pulled me close.
You have shown me your heart,
And your eyes full of tears.
You know it is time.
So goodbye, my child.
Let me kiss you one last time
Before you release my hand
And stand upon that podium
Where you will disappear.
Let me hear your voice one last time.
I love you, my child, my child.
I love you.

We live in a world of wires,
Of snakes and electrical impulses.
We live in a world that’s both
Interconnected and ignorant.
We live in a world that has been skewed
By the minds of mortal men.
We live in a world of color,
Yet people cling to black and white.
We live in a world bursting with promise—
Yet we look across at each other
And down at what lies below
And ignore the life that sparks around
In lieu of the ghostly imitations
That streak through the snakes.

The clock in my room is silent.
It’s only in my head—my head—
That I hear the snick of time passing.
Snick snick snick—
It mocks me, taunts me,
Pulls me deeper into the nightmare.
Time has become my enemy—
I cannot rewind,
I cannot pause,
I cannot fastforward.
I want to return to Then,
Skip the Now—
Pausing would be horrid—
And not even glimpse the Soon.
But snick snick snick goes my clock—
Snick snick snick goes my mind.
The window floats before my eyes
And I am forced to look through it
And witness the Soon
That I’d rather avoid.
Soon Soon Soon—
Oh how it looms!
Rivaled only by Now
While Then cowers in the corner.
I wish to join it.
Snick flinch snick flinch snick flinch.
Snick snick snick
Snick snick SNICK
SNICK snick SNICK
SNICK SNICK SNICK
SNICK
SNICK
SNICK

Silence.

One card up,
One card up,
Marching over the swirling
Abyss, abyss,
Deep down below.
One card up,
One card up,
Higher and higher they stack.
The dying sun
Casts rays from on high.
No strings attached,
Just precariously balanced,
One card up,
One card up,
Waiting, waiting.
Still stands time.
Shadows lengthen,
Shorten—swirl,
****** backwards
And downwards
By Abyss.

Relinquish the pencil, the paintbrush,
The paint and the water.
Do not worry about where you’re taken
Or what will be painted.
Let not these things trouble you.
Instead remain blank and open,
Willing to be painted by the ultimate hand.
Do not worry yourself with the picture—
Let the Painter take over,
And the picture He paints
Will be better than whatever you could have.
He brings His Canvas
To the right spot at the right time
And uses the right tools
To form the perfect Picture
That could only be made
On that one Canvas.

Clinging to the corner,
The ceiling,
The unused room upstairs,
The dusty cellar basement;
Lurking in the shadows,
Cringing from the light.
Retreating for now
But returning later,
Stronger, faster,
Harder to ignore.
Long, gangly, sickly;
Short, stocky, powerful;
Tiny, flitting, wispy;
Huge, full, pervasive.
Cunning, plotting, patient.
Always there,
Always watching,
Always waiting.

When heads are bowed
And eyes are closed,
The soul escapes.
They leave the Earth
And float on high
Throughout the aether.
They drift together,
Bumping into each other,
Sharing thoughts and feelings.
It’s a beautiful sight,
A beautiful feeling,
Those glittering souls.
Free from the burdens of life,
Bathed in the warm glow above,
All is well.
Until, at least, to the physical
They return.

Sidestep, sidestep,
Twist and lunge.
Day is coming;
Night is done.
Words elusive
Slip though time,
Never joining
To form a line.
Grasses wither,
Flowers bloom;
Sun shines brightly
Amidst the gloom.
Deepest blackness,
Force of night;
Nothing hidden
From its sight.