His consciousness moved,
his body did not.
He was bound
to the ground.
A fallen angel
stood amidst
the tempestuous
flames,
yet he did not burn.
The younger brother
was unstable,
malleable;
he must be put
to the test.
Thus,
the angel
fashioned
a blade
of immense strength
that wielded
the powers
of his hell,
upon its hilt
inscribed
-in seraphic
tongue-
Convicta.
Use it
he said.
Use it as
a vessel
of your
hate.
At once,
His soul
clung to
the demonic
weapon,
his body
was left behind.
You cannot leave,
the angel said,
unless he is
brought
to this side.
And Abel knew
what must be done,
and began the
journey out
of the inferno.

~*D.C.

Cursed,
he was;
forced to roam
these lands
until the
last of days.
A divine sigil
rests upon
his brow;
an invitation
to imminent
destruction.
T'was he
who slew
his brother,
and by doing so,
had dug
two graves.
But
his brother
was not lost,
no.
For eons
he slumbered
in the pit;
his revenge
fueling the
raging infernos
that surround him.
Until one day,
he stirred.
And upon his
unholy
resurrection
he recalled
a name,
and his fury
grew all the more.

~*D.C.

You are not weak.
The very fact that you are reading
these lines right now
is proof that you have
survived
until
this
very moment.
There will be scars,
and pain,
and heartache,
but believe me
when I tell you
that you were born
for better days.
True happiness
isn’t born of luxury.
It exists in us all,
and everything
around us.
There are people
who hate the Sun
when they feel its
warmth upon the ground,
yet if they set
their eyes to the sky
would some witness
the canvas of a world
that it’s helping
you to see.
There are those
who spend
their whole lives
screaming at
the universe
to notice their existence,
but this world is already
fine as it is,
and it is the chaos
within ourselves
that hinders us
from noticing.
Find
what makes
your insides sing,
and what sets
your soul on fire.
For you are
a living
celestial body,
and the key
to the universe’s
treasures
was already
within you
from the beginning.

~*D.C.

You are
a work of art;
there is music
in your footsteps,
and melodies
in your voice.
This once
insipid world
is now
full
of colors.
Did you lend a
hand with that?
Did you paint
the skies cerulean,
the curtains green,
the windows red?
In my sorrow
you put a finger
to these lips
as if to say
‘Let us not talk
about sad things’,
then you and I
would speak
about
the goodness
in everything.
Did you lend a
hand with that?
Did you teach
these lips
to express
the miracles
of life,
laughter,
and love?
You had a
gentleness
about those
around you
like you knew
everyone
was fighting
their own battles,
everyone was worth it.
Compassion should
be given where it
is needed.
Did you lend a
hand with that?
Did you show
me when to
give somebody
a shoulder to cry on,
a hand to hold,
a kiss g'night?
Darling,
how I miss you so.
Everything has changed
-even you and I-
but perhaps
you are
all of the
loveliness
that I have written
-and will ever write about-
from the very beginning.
And I
just
couldn’t
grasp you
clearly.
How I
hear,
see,
think,
and feel
are all
different now.
Did you lend
a hand with that?

~*D.C.

it loomed like a ghost in the falling day.

an hour past the town on the way
the old man's eyes bore surprise

i wouldn't advise it, sir, not wise
waking them up is no sport

they who're sleeping in the dead men's fort.

All along i've been a phasmophobic
they ceased never to rule my head
lurking in nooks and under my bed.

it sounds nice to talk about spirits and souls
but at nights when hollows of burning coals
mistily appear and not in a dream
choke me out of scream
to that terror i fall an abject slave.

but my companion on that dusk was brave
looking at those eerily towering spires
he said let's try meeting a few vampires.

there was no door opening with a creak
but inside was a musty dark hole
where daylight made a quick retreat
as if to let the dead peacefully stroll.

we climbed up stairs strewn with dry leaves
amid sensing a storm brewing on the wing
for the awakened dead in anger seethes
to have their rest broken by the living.

soon swept us a gale of the squeaking dead
driving us out of that well occupied well
surely startled by the intruders' raid
the winged vampires were fleeing like hell.

I remember my trembling lips
as I took that first step
and the family of eager eyes
That warmed my path ahead.

I remember your calming hands
That held me tight and steady
And the sweet whispers that shone
from behind your shining eyes

I remember the delicate words
Flowing freely across our tongues
And how the tears were welcomed
By the sea of smiles.

I remember getting lost in the kiss
And how every kiss that followed
Found a frenzy of flutters
That each shared a story.

I remember my widening cheeks
Feeling no force, but comfort
In the forest of embraces
And in the one that meant the most.

I remember the warm wind
Roaring through my hairsprayed hair
And not caring, but grinning
at the soaring sights as we flew.

I remember how we danced and swayed
and laughed and sung
And clung to one another,
savouring each second that passed.

I remember taking your hand
And gliding up the winding hill
Oblivious to the sharp road
beneath my weary feet.

I remember the sun that gleamed
Through the crisp cream curtains
As your arm wrapped me gently
And I slowly awoke