I wonder how I've ended back up in this position
dependant on not just a chemical or two, but
dependant on the love of a person
You see, I was not born a human, nor have I lived as one,

I'm used to the beauty of the darkness, for in dark places
beautiful flowers grow, but it takes eyes
shadowed in darkness for decades to see them
and to pluck them, one needs a still heart
that no longer beats with the rhythm of a living being

that darkness has shaped my world, shaped my mind
yet in her voice, her words, and her love
I've found myself slipping from that place
being pulled into one in which I do not know how to live
Here there is light, and sights to be seen
with eyes practiced to the sun

I used to believe the universe whispered to me
and maybe it still does, it's just that it's been so long
since I've listened, that its song is distant
raw, and uncaring

You see the universe is lonely,
that's why it turned into you, and into me,
to be embraced with it's own warmth
to embrace itself in its own desire,
what a simple thing we endeavor, is it not?

By becoming creatures bounded in time, and space,
we've forgotten our true self and along with it
the wellspring of love that created us,
now we seek it, although in lesser forms,
experiencing it with only a few
and the upper casts of beings know this,

Somewhere deep in our subconscious we also understand, and we know that we've forgotten it.

It's just that demons have embraced darkness, and a total absence of love, while we try to fill ourselves with small glimmers plucked from flowers that grow in the sun.

Demons, on the other hand, pluck flowers that grow only in the darkness, and those flowers have power over mortals, they will call to thee and under their spell, you will dream dreams meant for only devas, asuras, demons, and spirits.

This nectar is not meant for humans, yet in our arrogance, we reach for their stock and supply,
and with it we compose beautiful songs and paint beautiful shapes, we piece together majestic art and music that can open the mind, bend it, twist it, and mold it in ways from which it can never retreat.

We create,
Things that even devas desire,

We create,
Things that even demons devour,

But to us humans these things are toxic, they are too much, and we become lost to them.
Such that we call madness is a consequence of reaching too deeply into the well of knowledge with an unbalanced, ignorant, distracted, and frail mind, and in doing so, we forsake everything for the pitifullest glimpse of eternity.

In that place; only gods and asuras may roam freely; humans, on the other hand, are far too greedy,
far too curious, far too ignorant, and far too dangerous to possess such knowledge.

We should stick to light plucked from flowers growing in the sun,
because those flowers which grow in the darkness will only lead to our damnation, the conclusion of our race, and the manifestation of something far more terrible than any of our myths ever suggested.

that we ascribe to the sun and the stars

that seeing the sun shine as if

it would be beautiful but we would just be blind

to the fact that the stars are far

and that the sun shines as we wake up



that we also ascribe to the moon

the reflection at night when all is dark

and it becomes our hope that nights end

and the sun comes back

and love will, too



that we ascribe to rivers and summers

free-flowing and full of life

that love frees us and makes us live

but they are also forceful and blistering

that love chokes us and burns us out



that we ascribe to twos and threes

and blues and reds and

everything that people sense

and can relate to—

love is a specific thing, okay



no, love is a fragile thing

that is not meant to be written by

Kaurs, Leavs and Faudets

and likened into threes and stars

we do not ascribe fragile things to generalities

I was falling deeper
into the abyss,
and i shouted for help
i was greeted with words
but i never received hands
to pull me
out of it.

I barely remember
when i first started talking
yet i knew all my needs
where provided by crying.

Now, i am more capable
of more complex letters
and clearly, walking
to seek help first.

But i am stuck
in this
endless cycle
of
doing everything but failing
running but losing
hitting
writing.

This isn’t a letter
and it’s addressed to no one
because
i don’t know how to talk
and even get to someone.