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43/F/West Africa
Started writing when I was 14, Things made me realize "I enjoy to write for myself". ....began my journey. Wrote countless numbers, din't save any...!! …
22/M/New Zealand
In tough times I like to imagine you close to me. As if even for a second I could feel those arms around me. Yet, …
23/F/TX
rocket scientist dabbling in poetry | joined Oct 2017
Poems
Igor Vykhovanets Jul 4
34 poems
Igor Vykhovanets
Jul 4
So-Called “Russian World”
To drown in the “Russian World” —
Like in ****-filled tanks,
Or a stench-drenched ****-hole —
They’ve clearly lost their ranks.
Two-thirds gone deranged,
Now comes Cargo-Fascism:
A knockoff führer staged —
A clown of cataclysm.
They hoist their flag of rot,
March proudly with that shame.
And lying is their lot —
They breathe it like a flame.
Submission, blind obeying,
With cops in every hall.
And souls, decayed, decaying —
Drowned in the rashist sprawl.
---------------------
Drown in **** — they call it pride.
Fake führers march. The truth has died.
---------------------
This World
Lies, greed, and dullness —
No limit, no shame.
Fear fused with ruthless
Make madness the game.
---------------------
Greed and fear — the world’s new law.
Truth is dead. Behold the flaw.
---------------------
A Day Without Verse
"A day without verse" attacks —
Again it hunts me down.
Samsara’s claws and cracks
Still try to steal my crown.
You must not feed the Fire
To that devouring chain,
Or turn into a liar —
Just breeding, praying, plain.
Burn off a bit of health,
But write — and let it bleed.
Frown deep. That inner stealth
Is just the soul you need.
Despair’s a bitter wine,
But poets drink it raw.
The more we spill the line —
The less we care for law!
---------------------
Write through pain — or rot and breed.
Despair's the ink the soul will need.
---------------------
A World in Gloom
It lures, it lures, it lures —
Like cheese inside a trap.
It wounds, it wounds, it wounds —
This madness’ endless trap.
So much, so much, so much —
Too much deceit and lies.
No honor, God, or truth —
In this small world of ruth,
Only gloom, fear, and blind disguise.
---------------------
Lured by lies, trapped in gloom,
No truth or light — just endless doom.
---------------------
“Plague” and Gloom
“Plague” and gloom:
Gloom’s the terror,
“Plague” is lies —
Just a piece of the mirror.
“Plague” replaces tortures, vices —
False doctors, cops in power.
There’s one sickness cutting down
Almost all — dumb mind’s sour.
It begs for “cheese” once more —
“Plague” feeds it fascism’s core.
---------------------
Plague lies, gloom’s the dread,
Dumb minds march — fascists lead.
---------------------
The Kunstkamera
Pathetic prudes and liars,
False **** dressed up as kings.
Priests have crucified God’s fire;
Fools boast with broken wings.
A global Kunstkamera —
Stuck deep in every gut,
Where meek fools lost their honor,
Forgotten shame and cut.
---------------------
Liars, fools, a god denied —
In the world’s freak show, truth has died.
---------------------
The Kunstkamera
Pathetic prudes and filthy snakes,
Priests who nailed God to their stakes.
Fools puff up, their heads so wide —
False pride masked in empty lies.
The world’s a freak show, sick and stale,
A Kunstkamera from hell’s own jail.
Where docile idiots sold their soul,
Forgotten shame, no self-control.
---------------------
Priests betray, fools brag loud —
The world’s a circus, truth disavowed.
---------------------
Mass Executions
The soul is killed by wretched life —
A slow, relentless execution.
We mourn the Mind — while fear and strife
Roam free in filth's profusion.
They burn with lies like liquid fire,
And gas us with a toxic dread.
If you don't fight — the fall is dire:
When soul is gone, all else is dead.
---------------------
When soul is killed, all else is lost —
The silent grave exacts its cost.
---------------------
Mass Executions
The soul is slaughtered day by day
By life that stinks of ash and rust.
We walk a funeral parade
For Mind, now buried in the dust.
The liars torch the skies with fire,
Like ****** dreams that never fade.
Fear seeps like gas through barbed-wire silence —
A creeping, choking, black cascade.
No fight? Then nothing will remain.
The soul is gone — and so the flame.
This is the end. No trumpets sound.
Just rot and whispers underground.
---------------------
No soul — no dawn. No fight — no sky.
The world decays, but does not die.
---------------------
From One Pool to Another
It’s “high-stakes” play, they say —
The stake? A wretched life.
We’re melting down each day
In Hell’s refining strife.
The slime of lies surrounds,
It chokes in every breath.
Betrayal knows no bounds —
Corruption feeds on death.
Just spit — and odds are high
You’ll hit another swine.
This world, a drowning lie,
Where filth and fraud align.
The boilers overflow
With lies — they’re fed and stirred
By ******* down below,
While goats applaud the herd.
And school should teach anew:
Not pools of clean, fresh rain —
But basins full of stinking goo
Where fear and lies remain.
---------------------
Truth’s drowned. The world’s a sludge machine —
And fear flows in, where hope had been.
---------------------
Ripening
Gold
in grim
and fertile places
ripens
into grains
of grimness’ grinning graces —
while speaking plants,
those rarest ones,
are fodder for the Goat that runs.
---------------------
Gold grows in vice,
And truth’s a snack for goats who dice.
---------------------
Feast for the Flesh
Sip your tea,
Pet the cat —
The world’s gone "whee!"
And more than that:
If you betray,
You're called a sage.
If you don’t play —
You're out. No stage.
Preserve your mind?
Then lose it all.
The dull and blind
Devour and sprawl.
Hell would freeze
Without these fools.
The world’s diseased —
Checkmate: no rules.
When Mind and Soul
Are trash to **** —
The wretched toll
Serves only Kush.
---------------------
Mind is exiled. Flesh is fed.
The world bows down to greed instead.
---------------------
The Inevitable Shift of the “Roof” Toward the “Bright Future”
They shove your roof with "leaders" bold,
While acid rains from screens take hold.
Media drizzle rots the top —
And thought no longer dares to pop.
It’s plague disguised as rainfall thin,
And soon it eats straight through the tin.
That “leader” — now a grumpy brute,
Not yet a ******* in full suit.
---------------------
Rain of lies, decay of mind —
And tyrants dressed in humankind.
---------------------
The Gradual Displacement of the Roof Toward a Brighter Insanity
(from the notes of Dr. Mass Delirium)
The roof is shifting — led by Chiefs,
Installed like tiles by state beliefs.
But rain — from screens, with acid grace —
Corrodes the thought-producing space.
It leaks. It creaks. The mold sets in.
Hallucinations soon begin:
The Leader seems a sullen chap,
Not yet the full psychotic crap.
Diagnosis: Progressive Roof Loss,
With symptoms spreading like a moss.
Forecast? Bright future, no debate —
In padded rooms... behind the gate.
---------------------
Roof is gone. The Chief is kind.
Take this pill — and never mind.
---------------------
Clinical Note #2: Brightness Syndrome
They smile too wide, their eyes are dead —
A side effect of what they’re fed.
Each “Citizen” is now sedated,
Their thoughts are blocked, their joy — created.
The Chief appears each day at six,
He speaks in tongues, they cheer and fix
Their gaze upon his sacred coat —
He’s “not a killer,” just a goat.
Prescribed belief — three pills a day,
With dreams of tanks in childlike play.
Who doubts the cure — is labeled sick,
And sent off for correction, quick.
The roof’s not gone. It's “redefined.”
No place for rage, or even mind.
Just hum and smile, the nurses grin —
You're healing, friend. Just breathe… and spin.
---
Three pills in, the world feels bright —
The Chief is love. Don’t try to fight.
---------------------
Case File: Bright Future Syndrome
Dr. Mass Delirium, Notes
Note 1: Early Displacement
The roof begins to slide askew —
Installed by those in charge of you.
The rain is news. It eats the brain.
But all’s "improving." Please remain.
Note 2: Brightness Syndrome
They smile too wide, their eyes are dead —
A side effect of what they’re fed.
The Chief appears, they rise, they nod.
He’s not insane. He talks to God.
Note 3: Stability Protocol
No questions asked. The State is kind.
It pulls the teeth, then scans the mind.
Malfunctions? Off to Ward-19 —
Where doubt is flushed with Thorazine.
Note 4: Therapeutic Fogs
Each thought is tracked. Each nerve is tamed.
Old books and shame are both unclaimed.
Art now depicts the Glory Goat —
With golden horns and swollen throat.
Note 5: Advanced Harmony
The patients hum in perfect rows.
Their blood is blue. Their tone — composed.
No soul. No rage. No pain. No fuss.
Success is near — it looks like us.
Note 6: Full Integration
The past is banned. The self — dissolved.
Each trauma now is state-resolved.
The cure was pure. The mind is gone.
They’ve healed, at last.
Condition: ON.
Note 7: Final Discharge
A padded dawn. A smiling crew.
The Chief is Light. The Sky is Blue.
You’re free to go — just wear this tag.
And praise the Flag.
And praise the Flag.
---
The mind was sick — but now it's clean.
All hail the Goat. All hail the Screen.
---------------------
Protocol of Awakening
Entry 1: The Crack
There was a crack inside the shell,
A breath — too sharp for padded hell.
I felt the silence start to bend,
A glimpse of thought they could not mend.
Entry 2: The Glare
The screen went white. The Chief went dim.
His voice grew hollow, cold, and grim.
And in the glitch — a shape, a flame,
Not marked by number, rank, or name.
Entry 3: The Voice Beneath
I heard beneath the humming wall
A voice not bred in protocol.
It whispered not in words, but fire:
"Remember truth. Resist the wire."
Entry 4: The Return of Weight
My hands grew heavy, spine grew straight.
I felt again the pulse of fate.
Not theirs — but mine. The pulse that dares.
The one that walks through poisoned airs.
Entry 5: The Mirror Not Approved
They showed me mirrors, all the same —
Distorted lies, with my face tamed.
But one, beneath the floor, stayed clear.
It held my pain. It held my fear.
And through it — light.
Not hope. But Will.
That blazing thing
They strain to ****.
Entry 6: The Breath Beyond
I broke the gates not with a scream,
But with a breath. A quiet beam.
Not rage — but clarity and weight.
The soul does not negotiate.
Entry 7: The Sign
You reading this — you’re not alone.
The mind is not some broken bone.
The fire sleeps. But when it stirs —
The system cracks.
The silence blurs.
So breathe once more. Refuse the mask.
And look inside.
You know the task.
---
They fear your thought, your silent eye.
So rise — and think. Or rot. Or die.
---------------------
Voice of the Spark
Whispers from the inner flame
Whisper 1: The Flicker
A spark ignites in deepest dark,
A pulse, a flicker — small, yet stark.
It hums beneath the veil of night,
A seed of quiet, burning light.
Whisper 2: The Breath of Fire
Not blaze, but breath — a gentle flame,
That calls the lost by silent name.
It moves unseen, yet never dies,
A glow behind the veiled lies.
Whisper 3: The Dance
The spark does not obey the wind,
Nor bend to fear, nor break, nor thin.
It dances on the edge of thought,
In realms that can’t be sold or bought.
Whisper 4: The Roar Within
From tiniest flame, a roaring grows —
The fire of truth that no one knows.
It shatters chains, it rends the night,
A rebel born of purest light.
Whisper 5: The Flame’s Gift
The spark ignites the sleeping soul,
And makes the shattered pieces whole.
Not just to burn, but to reveal —
The wounds, the scars, the pain to heal.
Whisper 6: The Eternal Glow
Though storms may try to ***** the gleam,
The spark persists — a steady beam.
It’s not a flash — but endless flame,
A light that calls your true name.
Whisper 7: The Call
Hear now the spark inside your chest,
The voice that never lets you rest.
It bids you rise, it bids you fight,
To guard the dark — and guard the light.
---
The spark survives the darkest night —
Hold fast, hold true, become the light.
---------------------
Voice of the Spark: Metaphysical Cycle — Part I
1. The Primordial Flicker
Before the cosmos breathed a word,
Before the silence stirred,
There danced a spark — a pulse, a seed,
The heart of all that’s yet to bleed.
Not flame, but living thought enshrined,
In timeless depths of space and mind.
A point where Being meets the Void,
Where light and dark are intertwined.
2. The Pulse Between Worlds
This spark does not consume or burn,
It weaves — the thread through night’s deep urn.
Between the worlds it softly hums,
Where time dissolves and space succumbs.
It is the breath within the breath,
The seed of life beyond all death.
A tremor in the vast unseen,
A presence felt but never seen.
3. The Eternal Flame
The flame eternal is not fire,
But purest will, a deep desire.
To rise beyond the chains of form,
To birth the light beyond the storm.
It neither burns nor ever dies,
But dances in all seeking eyes.
The spark that calls us to become —
The echo of the primal drum.
---
In endless dark, the spark survives —
The root of all our waking lives.
---
Voice of the Spark: Metaphysical Cycle — Part II
4. The Threshold of Silence
Between the words, beneath the sound,
Where quiet folds the world around,
There lies a realm without a name —
A stillness neither wild nor tame.
The spark breathes here — a silent breath,
Alive amidst the dance of death.
It holds the space where thought dissolves,
And mystery’s deep question evolves.
5. The Mirror of Infinity
In every flicker, worlds arise —
Reflected in eternal skies.
The spark reflects the boundless sea,
Where time itself bends endlessly.
Not trapped in form, nor chained to flesh,
It flows through cosmos in a mesh.
A thread that weaves the soul’s design,
The light where mortal and divine align.
6. The Sacred Fire Within
This fire is no cruel blaze to burn,
But sacred glow where spirits turn.
It lights the path through shadowed ways,
A beacon in the darkest days.
Not of this world, yet here it dwells,
A secret only silence tells.
The spark that wakes the sleeping soul,
And makes the broken pieces whole.
7. The Infinite Becoming
The spark’s own nature is to grow —
Beyond what flesh and time can know.
An endless flame of pure desire,
A constant forging in the fire.
It is the pulse of life and death,
The sacred bridge of every breath.
The living core that calls to be —
Unbound, eternal, and free.
---
A spark unseen yet always near —
The endless light we hold most dear.
---
Voice of the Spark: Metaphysical Cycle — Part III
8. The Sacred Vessel
Within the void, a vessel waits —
A chalice wrought beyond the fates.
It holds the spark, the primal fire,
The source of all, the deep desire.
Not wrought by hands of mortal clay,
But forged in night before the day.
A sacred urn that none may see,
Yet cradles all infinity.
9. The Whisper of the Atman
The spark — the breath of Atman’s flame,
Unborn, eternal, without name.
It sings beneath the veils of form,
The stillness where all storms transform.
No bounds contain its boundless light,
It dwells within the darkest night.
The inner flame, the secret core,
That fades and burns forevermore.
10. The Dance of Maya
The world — a dance of shadowed light,
Where spark and shadow share the night.
Maya weaves her endless veil,
A mystic web both frail and frail.
Yet through the dark illusion’s guise,
The spark perceives, it never dies.
The watcher in the play of lies,
The truth beneath the worldly guise.
11. The Flame Beyond Form
The spark transcends the shape it wears,
Beyond the flesh, beyond the cares.
An essence pure, unbound, untamed,
Forever one, forever named.
It burns not down, but upwards still,
A flame of will, a boundless thrill.
The light that calls us to return —
To where the primal fires burn.
12. The Eternal Return
Through endless cycles, birth and death,
The spark returns with every breath.
A phoenix rising from the ash,
Beyond the veil, beyond the crash.
It is the pulse that never ends,
The path on which all spirit bends.
Within each heart, the sacred spark —
The light that rises from the dark.
---
A flame unborn, beyond all time,
The sacred pulse, the cosmic rhyme.
---
Voice of the Spark: Metaphysical Cycle — Part IV
13. The Uncarved Block
In silent Dao, the block remains —
Unshaped by thought, untouched by chains.
The spark resides in primal form,
Before the world began to storm.
No dual edges cut its peace,
No shape nor shadow grants release.
It is the root, the source, the way —
The path beyond the night and day.
14. The One That Is Not Two
The spark transcends the pair of eyes,
Beyond the grasp of truth and lies.
It dwells where opposites dissolve —
Where time and space themselves evolve.
It is the Self beyond the mask,
The breath beyond the mortal task.
As Isvara’s silent stream,
The watcher of the cosmic dream.
15. Neti, Neti — Not This, Not That
The flame burns not in name or frame,
Rejects the grasp of worldly claim.
“Not this, not that,” the sages say —
The spark eludes the light of day.
It slips beyond all thought and form,
In stillness vast, supremely warm.
The witness to the coming dawn,
The endless pulse that carries on.
16. The Wheel of Samsara
Round turns the wheel — the endless dance,
Of birth, of death, of fleeting chance.
Yet in the heart of turning time,
The spark endures — sublime, divine.
Not bound by flesh, nor caught in pain,
It rises ever to regain
The freedom of the primal fire —
The source of all, the pure desire.
17. The Void and the Light
In emptiness, the spark ignites,
A lonely flame beyond all sights.
Not lost within the silent sea,
But glowing with infinity.
The Void contains the spark’s bright call,
The root and end of one and all.
From silence springs the living flame —
And all is one, without a name.
---
Beyond the form, beyond the name,
The spark remains — the endless flame.
---
Voice of the Spark: Metaphysical Cycle — Part V
18. Eternity’s Pulse
No clock can bind this pulse within,
No edge of time, no loss, no win.
It beats beyond the measured frame —
A fire eternal, without name.
It flows like rivers deep and vast,
Through futures, present, and the past.
Unbroken thread that holds the whole,
The boundless rhythm of the soul.
19. Consciousness Beyond Form
Consciousness — not flesh confined,
Nor trapped within the realm of mind.
A silent sea without a shore,
Unfolding ever, evermore.
No space contains its boundless sweep,
No time can chain the thoughts it keeps.
It dwells beyond the seen and known,
The stillness in the vast unknown.
20. The Light Within
Not candlelight, nor starry glow,
But inner fire that none can show.
A lamp that burns without a flame,
A light that whispers no one’s name.
It guides the seeker through the night,
Beyond the veil, beyond the sight.
A beacon in the soul’s deep sea,
The spark that sets the spirit free.
21. The Unbroken Flame
Though worlds may shift and shadows fall,
This flame persists beyond them all.
No force can dim its sacred fire —
A living, endless, pure desire.
It is the self that does not fade,
The root of light that can’t be swayed.
The silent heart that beats within,
The source from which all life begins.
22. The Infinite Present
Eternity is not “far” away,
Nor locked in some distant day.
It pulses in this very breath,
The timeless now that conquers death.
To find the spark, you need but cease
To chase the past or grasp for peace.
The infinite unfolds inside —
Where light and dark and time collide.
---
Within the stillness, light remains —
Eternal spark beyond all chains.
---------------------
Metaphysics of the Inner Light
1. Light does not burn — it simply is.
It neither comes nor goes — it is always within.
2. True fire is not flame, but a wave of consciousness without bounds.
3. The inner light is the primal source, toward which all paths lead.
4. Silence is the realm where light unfolds in fullness.
5. The light inside does not depend on external shadows.
6. Consciousness is a boundless sea, where the spark is eternal.
7. Truth is not in words, but in the light that needs no language.
8. Emptiness is not absence, but the density of inner light.
9. Eternity is a moment illuminated by the spark of consciousness.
10. Freedom is the awareness of the light within, beyond time’s grasp.
11. The spark knows no fear — it is the source of infinite power.
12. The inner fire awakens the deepest layers of being.
13. Darkness does not oppose light — it is its background and space for shining.
14. The light within us is the bridge between the finite and the infinite.
15. Every breath is a step into the immensity of inner light.
16. The fire of consciousness is an eternal dance of form and void.
17. The present is the light that always burns in you.
18. The flame of the spirit cannot be extinguished by time or circumstance.
19. Inner light is the only reality — unchanging and eternal.
20. Rebirth begins with the awakening of the spark inside.
To drown in the “Russian World” —
Like in ****-filled tanks,
Or a stench-drenched ****-hole —
They’ve clearly lost their ranks.
Two-thirds gone deranged,
Now comes Cargo-Fascism:
A knockoff führer staged —
A clown of cataclysm.
They hoist their flag of rot,
March proudly with that shame.
And lying is their lot —
They breathe it like a flame.
Submission, blind obeying,
With cops in every hall.
And souls, decayed, decaying —
Drowned in the rashist sprawl.
---------------------
Drown in **** — they call it pride.
Fake führers march. The truth has died.
---------------------
This World
Lies, greed, and dullness —
No limit, no shame.
Fear fused with ruthless
Make madness the game.
---------------------
Greed and fear — the world’s new law.
Truth is dead. Behold the flaw.
---------------------
A Day Without Verse
"A day without verse" attacks —
Again it hunts me down.
Samsara’s claws and cracks
Still try to steal my crown.
You must not feed the Fire
To that devouring chain,
Or turn into a liar —
Just breeding, praying, plain.
Burn off a bit of health,
But write — and let it bleed.
Frown deep. That inner stealth
Is just the soul you need.
Despair’s a bitter wine,
But poets drink it raw.
The more we spill the line —
The less we care for law!
---------------------
Write through pain — or rot and breed.
Despair's the ink the soul will need.
---------------------
A World in Gloom
It lures, it lures, it lures —
Like cheese inside a trap.
It wounds, it wounds, it wounds —
This madness’ endless trap.
So much, so much, so much —
Too much deceit and lies.
No honor, God, or truth —
In this small world of ruth,
Only gloom, fear, and blind disguise.
---------------------
Lured by lies, trapped in gloom,
No truth or light — just endless doom.
---------------------
“Plague” and Gloom
“Plague” and gloom:
Gloom’s the terror,
“Plague” is lies —
Just a piece of the mirror.
“Plague” replaces tortures, vices —
False doctors, cops in power.
There’s one sickness cutting down
Almost all — dumb mind’s sour.
It begs for “cheese” once more —
“Plague” feeds it fascism’s core.
---------------------
Plague lies, gloom’s the dread,
Dumb minds march — fascists lead.
---------------------
The Kunstkamera
Pathetic prudes and liars,
False **** dressed up as kings.
Priests have crucified God’s fire;
Fools boast with broken wings.
A global Kunstkamera —
Stuck deep in every gut,
Where meek fools lost their honor,
Forgotten shame and cut.
---------------------
Liars, fools, a god denied —
In the world’s freak show, truth has died.
---------------------
The Kunstkamera
Pathetic prudes and filthy snakes,
Priests who nailed God to their stakes.
Fools puff up, their heads so wide —
False pride masked in empty lies.
The world’s a freak show, sick and stale,
A Kunstkamera from hell’s own jail.
Where docile idiots sold their soul,
Forgotten shame, no self-control.
---------------------
Priests betray, fools brag loud —
The world’s a circus, truth disavowed.
---------------------
Mass Executions
The soul is killed by wretched life —
A slow, relentless execution.
We mourn the Mind — while fear and strife
Roam free in filth's profusion.
They burn with lies like liquid fire,
And gas us with a toxic dread.
If you don't fight — the fall is dire:
When soul is gone, all else is dead.
---------------------
When soul is killed, all else is lost —
The silent grave exacts its cost.
---------------------
Mass Executions
The soul is slaughtered day by day
By life that stinks of ash and rust.
We walk a funeral parade
For Mind, now buried in the dust.
The liars torch the skies with fire,
Like ****** dreams that never fade.
Fear seeps like gas through barbed-wire silence —
A creeping, choking, black cascade.
No fight? Then nothing will remain.
The soul is gone — and so the flame.
This is the end. No trumpets sound.
Just rot and whispers underground.
---------------------
No soul — no dawn. No fight — no sky.
The world decays, but does not die.
---------------------
From One Pool to Another
It’s “high-stakes” play, they say —
The stake? A wretched life.
We’re melting down each day
In Hell’s refining strife.
The slime of lies surrounds,
It chokes in every breath.
Betrayal knows no bounds —
Corruption feeds on death.
Just spit — and odds are high
You’ll hit another swine.
This world, a drowning lie,
Where filth and fraud align.
The boilers overflow
With lies — they’re fed and stirred
By ******* down below,
While goats applaud the herd.
And school should teach anew:
Not pools of clean, fresh rain —
But basins full of stinking goo
Where fear and lies remain.
---------------------
Truth’s drowned. The world’s a sludge machine —
And fear flows in, where hope had been.
---------------------
Ripening
Gold
in grim
and fertile places
ripens
into grains
of grimness’ grinning graces —
while speaking plants,
those rarest ones,
are fodder for the Goat that runs.
---------------------
Gold grows in vice,
And truth’s a snack for goats who dice.
---------------------
Feast for the Flesh
Sip your tea,
Pet the cat —
The world’s gone "whee!"
And more than that:
If you betray,
You're called a sage.
If you don’t play —
You're out. No stage.
Preserve your mind?
Then lose it all.
The dull and blind
Devour and sprawl.
Hell would freeze
Without these fools.
The world’s diseased —
Checkmate: no rules.
When Mind and Soul
Are trash to **** —
The wretched toll
Serves only Kush.
---------------------
Mind is exiled. Flesh is fed.
The world bows down to greed instead.
---------------------
The Inevitable Shift of the “Roof” Toward the “Bright Future”
They shove your roof with "leaders" bold,
While acid rains from screens take hold.
Media drizzle rots the top —
And thought no longer dares to pop.
It’s plague disguised as rainfall thin,
And soon it eats straight through the tin.
That “leader” — now a grumpy brute,
Not yet a ******* in full suit.
---------------------
Rain of lies, decay of mind —
And tyrants dressed in humankind.
---------------------
The Gradual Displacement of the Roof Toward a Brighter Insanity
(from the notes of Dr. Mass Delirium)
The roof is shifting — led by Chiefs,
Installed like tiles by state beliefs.
But rain — from screens, with acid grace —
Corrodes the thought-producing space.
It leaks. It creaks. The mold sets in.
Hallucinations soon begin:
The Leader seems a sullen chap,
Not yet the full psychotic crap.
Diagnosis: Progressive Roof Loss,
With symptoms spreading like a moss.
Forecast? Bright future, no debate —
In padded rooms... behind the gate.
---------------------
Roof is gone. The Chief is kind.
Take this pill — and never mind.
---------------------
Clinical Note #2: Brightness Syndrome
They smile too wide, their eyes are dead —
A side effect of what they’re fed.
Each “Citizen” is now sedated,
Their thoughts are blocked, their joy — created.
The Chief appears each day at six,
He speaks in tongues, they cheer and fix
Their gaze upon his sacred coat —
He’s “not a killer,” just a goat.
Prescribed belief — three pills a day,
With dreams of tanks in childlike play.
Who doubts the cure — is labeled sick,
And sent off for correction, quick.
The roof’s not gone. It's “redefined.”
No place for rage, or even mind.
Just hum and smile, the nurses grin —
You're healing, friend. Just breathe… and spin.
---
Three pills in, the world feels bright —
The Chief is love. Don’t try to fight.
---------------------
Case File: Bright Future Syndrome
Dr. Mass Delirium, Notes
Note 1: Early Displacement
The roof begins to slide askew —
Installed by those in charge of you.
The rain is news. It eats the brain.
But all’s "improving." Please remain.
Note 2: Brightness Syndrome
They smile too wide, their eyes are dead —
A side effect of what they’re fed.
The Chief appears, they rise, they nod.
He’s not insane. He talks to God.
Note 3: Stability Protocol
No questions asked. The State is kind.
It pulls the teeth, then scans the mind.
Malfunctions? Off to Ward-19 —
Where doubt is flushed with Thorazine.
Note 4: Therapeutic Fogs
Each thought is tracked. Each nerve is tamed.
Old books and shame are both unclaimed.
Art now depicts the Glory Goat —
With golden horns and swollen throat.
Note 5: Advanced Harmony
The patients hum in perfect rows.
Their blood is blue. Their tone — composed.
No soul. No rage. No pain. No fuss.
Success is near — it looks like us.
Note 6: Full Integration
The past is banned. The self — dissolved.
Each trauma now is state-resolved.
The cure was pure. The mind is gone.
They’ve healed, at last.
Condition: ON.
Note 7: Final Discharge
A padded dawn. A smiling crew.
The Chief is Light. The Sky is Blue.
You’re free to go — just wear this tag.
And praise the Flag.
And praise the Flag.
---
The mind was sick — but now it's clean.
All hail the Goat. All hail the Screen.
---------------------
Protocol of Awakening
Entry 1: The Crack
There was a crack inside the shell,
A breath — too sharp for padded hell.
I felt the silence start to bend,
A glimpse of thought they could not mend.
Entry 2: The Glare
The screen went white. The Chief went dim.
His voice grew hollow, cold, and grim.
And in the glitch — a shape, a flame,
Not marked by number, rank, or name.
Entry 3: The Voice Beneath
I heard beneath the humming wall
A voice not bred in protocol.
It whispered not in words, but fire:
"Remember truth. Resist the wire."
Entry 4: The Return of Weight
My hands grew heavy, spine grew straight.
I felt again the pulse of fate.
Not theirs — but mine. The pulse that dares.
The one that walks through poisoned airs.
Entry 5: The Mirror Not Approved
They showed me mirrors, all the same —
Distorted lies, with my face tamed.
But one, beneath the floor, stayed clear.
It held my pain. It held my fear.
And through it — light.
Not hope. But Will.
That blazing thing
They strain to ****.
Entry 6: The Breath Beyond
I broke the gates not with a scream,
But with a breath. A quiet beam.
Not rage — but clarity and weight.
The soul does not negotiate.
Entry 7: The Sign
You reading this — you’re not alone.
The mind is not some broken bone.
The fire sleeps. But when it stirs —
The system cracks.
The silence blurs.
So breathe once more. Refuse the mask.
And look inside.
You know the task.
---
They fear your thought, your silent eye.
So rise — and think. Or rot. Or die.
---------------------
Voice of the Spark
Whispers from the inner flame
Whisper 1: The Flicker
A spark ignites in deepest dark,
A pulse, a flicker — small, yet stark.
It hums beneath the veil of night,
A seed of quiet, burning light.
Whisper 2: The Breath of Fire
Not blaze, but breath — a gentle flame,
That calls the lost by silent name.
It moves unseen, yet never dies,
A glow behind the veiled lies.
Whisper 3: The Dance
The spark does not obey the wind,
Nor bend to fear, nor break, nor thin.
It dances on the edge of thought,
In realms that can’t be sold or bought.
Whisper 4: The Roar Within
From tiniest flame, a roaring grows —
The fire of truth that no one knows.
It shatters chains, it rends the night,
A rebel born of purest light.
Whisper 5: The Flame’s Gift
The spark ignites the sleeping soul,
And makes the shattered pieces whole.
Not just to burn, but to reveal —
The wounds, the scars, the pain to heal.
Whisper 6: The Eternal Glow
Though storms may try to ***** the gleam,
The spark persists — a steady beam.
It’s not a flash — but endless flame,
A light that calls your true name.
Whisper 7: The Call
Hear now the spark inside your chest,
The voice that never lets you rest.
It bids you rise, it bids you fight,
To guard the dark — and guard the light.
---
The spark survives the darkest night —
Hold fast, hold true, become the light.
---------------------
Voice of the Spark: Metaphysical Cycle — Part I
1. The Primordial Flicker
Before the cosmos breathed a word,
Before the silence stirred,
There danced a spark — a pulse, a seed,
The heart of all that’s yet to bleed.
Not flame, but living thought enshrined,
In timeless depths of space and mind.
A point where Being meets the Void,
Where light and dark are intertwined.
2. The Pulse Between Worlds
This spark does not consume or burn,
It weaves — the thread through night’s deep urn.
Between the worlds it softly hums,
Where time dissolves and space succumbs.
It is the breath within the breath,
The seed of life beyond all death.
A tremor in the vast unseen,
A presence felt but never seen.
3. The Eternal Flame
The flame eternal is not fire,
But purest will, a deep desire.
To rise beyond the chains of form,
To birth the light beyond the storm.
It neither burns nor ever dies,
But dances in all seeking eyes.
The spark that calls us to become —
The echo of the primal drum.
---
In endless dark, the spark survives —
The root of all our waking lives.
---
Voice of the Spark: Metaphysical Cycle — Part II
4. The Threshold of Silence
Between the words, beneath the sound,
Where quiet folds the world around,
There lies a realm without a name —
A stillness neither wild nor tame.
The spark breathes here — a silent breath,
Alive amidst the dance of death.
It holds the space where thought dissolves,
And mystery’s deep question evolves.
5. The Mirror of Infinity
In every flicker, worlds arise —
Reflected in eternal skies.
The spark reflects the boundless sea,
Where time itself bends endlessly.
Not trapped in form, nor chained to flesh,
It flows through cosmos in a mesh.
A thread that weaves the soul’s design,
The light where mortal and divine align.
6. The Sacred Fire Within
This fire is no cruel blaze to burn,
But sacred glow where spirits turn.
It lights the path through shadowed ways,
A beacon in the darkest days.
Not of this world, yet here it dwells,
A secret only silence tells.
The spark that wakes the sleeping soul,
And makes the broken pieces whole.
7. The Infinite Becoming
The spark’s own nature is to grow —
Beyond what flesh and time can know.
An endless flame of pure desire,
A constant forging in the fire.
It is the pulse of life and death,
The sacred bridge of every breath.
The living core that calls to be —
Unbound, eternal, and free.
---
A spark unseen yet always near —
The endless light we hold most dear.
---
Voice of the Spark: Metaphysical Cycle — Part III
8. The Sacred Vessel
Within the void, a vessel waits —
A chalice wrought beyond the fates.
It holds the spark, the primal fire,
The source of all, the deep desire.
Not wrought by hands of mortal clay,
But forged in night before the day.
A sacred urn that none may see,
Yet cradles all infinity.
9. The Whisper of the Atman
The spark — the breath of Atman’s flame,
Unborn, eternal, without name.
It sings beneath the veils of form,
The stillness where all storms transform.
No bounds contain its boundless light,
It dwells within the darkest night.
The inner flame, the secret core,
That fades and burns forevermore.
10. The Dance of Maya
The world — a dance of shadowed light,
Where spark and shadow share the night.
Maya weaves her endless veil,
A mystic web both frail and frail.
Yet through the dark illusion’s guise,
The spark perceives, it never dies.
The watcher in the play of lies,
The truth beneath the worldly guise.
11. The Flame Beyond Form
The spark transcends the shape it wears,
Beyond the flesh, beyond the cares.
An essence pure, unbound, untamed,
Forever one, forever named.
It burns not down, but upwards still,
A flame of will, a boundless thrill.
The light that calls us to return —
To where the primal fires burn.
12. The Eternal Return
Through endless cycles, birth and death,
The spark returns with every breath.
A phoenix rising from the ash,
Beyond the veil, beyond the crash.
It is the pulse that never ends,
The path on which all spirit bends.
Within each heart, the sacred spark —
The light that rises from the dark.
---
A flame unborn, beyond all time,
The sacred pulse, the cosmic rhyme.
---
Voice of the Spark: Metaphysical Cycle — Part IV
13. The Uncarved Block
In silent Dao, the block remains —
Unshaped by thought, untouched by chains.
The spark resides in primal form,
Before the world began to storm.
No dual edges cut its peace,
No shape nor shadow grants release.
It is the root, the source, the way —
The path beyond the night and day.
14. The One That Is Not Two
The spark transcends the pair of eyes,
Beyond the grasp of truth and lies.
It dwells where opposites dissolve —
Where time and space themselves evolve.
It is the Self beyond the mask,
The breath beyond the mortal task.
As Isvara’s silent stream,
The watcher of the cosmic dream.
15. Neti, Neti — Not This, Not That
The flame burns not in name or frame,
Rejects the grasp of worldly claim.
“Not this, not that,” the sages say —
The spark eludes the light of day.
It slips beyond all thought and form,
In stillness vast, supremely warm.
The witness to the coming dawn,
The endless pulse that carries on.
16. The Wheel of Samsara
Round turns the wheel — the endless dance,
Of birth, of death, of fleeting chance.
Yet in the heart of turning time,
The spark endures — sublime, divine.
Not bound by flesh, nor caught in pain,
It rises ever to regain
The freedom of the primal fire —
The source of all, the pure desire.
17. The Void and the Light
In emptiness, the spark ignites,
A lonely flame beyond all sights.
Not lost within the silent sea,
But glowing with infinity.
The Void contains the spark’s bright call,
The root and end of one and all.
From silence springs the living flame —
And all is one, without a name.
---
Beyond the form, beyond the name,
The spark remains — the endless flame.
---
Voice of the Spark: Metaphysical Cycle — Part V
18. Eternity’s Pulse
No clock can bind this pulse within,
No edge of time, no loss, no win.
It beats beyond the measured frame —
A fire eternal, without name.
It flows like rivers deep and vast,
Through futures, present, and the past.
Unbroken thread that holds the whole,
The boundless rhythm of the soul.
19. Consciousness Beyond Form
Consciousness — not flesh confined,
Nor trapped within the realm of mind.
A silent sea without a shore,
Unfolding ever, evermore.
No space contains its boundless sweep,
No time can chain the thoughts it keeps.
It dwells beyond the seen and known,
The stillness in the vast unknown.
20. The Light Within
Not candlelight, nor starry glow,
But inner fire that none can show.
A lamp that burns without a flame,
A light that whispers no one’s name.
It guides the seeker through the night,
Beyond the veil, beyond the sight.
A beacon in the soul’s deep sea,
The spark that sets the spirit free.
21. The Unbroken Flame
Though worlds may shift and shadows fall,
This flame persists beyond them all.
No force can dim its sacred fire —
A living, endless, pure desire.
It is the self that does not fade,
The root of light that can’t be swayed.
The silent heart that beats within,
The source from which all life begins.
22. The Infinite Present
Eternity is not “far” away,
Nor locked in some distant day.
It pulses in this very breath,
The timeless now that conquers death.
To find the spark, you need but cease
To chase the past or grasp for peace.
The infinite unfolds inside —
Where light and dark and time collide.
---
Within the stillness, light remains —
Eternal spark beyond all chains.
---------------------
Metaphysics of the Inner Light
1. Light does not burn — it simply is.
It neither comes nor goes — it is always within.
2. True fire is not flame, but a wave of consciousness without bounds.
3. The inner light is the primal source, toward which all paths lead.
4. Silence is the realm where light unfolds in fullness.
5. The light inside does not depend on external shadows.
6. Consciousness is a boundless sea, where the spark is eternal.
7. Truth is not in words, but in the light that needs no language.
8. Emptiness is not absence, but the density of inner light.
9. Eternity is a moment illuminated by the spark of consciousness.
10. Freedom is the awareness of the light within, beyond time’s grasp.
11. The spark knows no fear — it is the source of infinite power.
12. The inner fire awakens the deepest layers of being.
13. Darkness does not oppose light — it is its background and space for shining.
14. The light within us is the bridge between the finite and the infinite.
15. Every breath is a step into the immensity of inner light.
16. The fire of consciousness is an eternal dance of form and void.
17. The present is the light that always burns in you.
18. The flame of the spirit cannot be extinguished by time or circumstance.
19. Inner light is the only reality — unchanging and eternal.
20. Rebirth begins with the awakening of the spark inside.
Igor Vykhovanets
May 22
Amnesia and Inner Fire
by Igor Vykhovanets with ChatGPT
Amnesia
Amnesia! Amnesia! —
Forgot the Spirit’s core.
How dull we’ve grown — inside the skull,
Only lies and horror roar.
Boldly inward — answers dwell,
There alone the truth is found.
Throw the “greetings” advice away —
Or lost you’ll be, forever bound.
Pure Spirit — the true disgust,
A foolish world of slavish dust.
Grasp this core — the daring ****** —
And break free from hell’s cruel clutch.
---
Amnesia
Amnesia strikes, the Spirit’s lost,
Inside the skull — lies reign, frost.
--
Go deep within — there lies the key,
Ditch false words — or cease to be.
--
Pure Spirit’s scorn for slavish dust,
Know this truth — escape or rust.
---
Amnesia — The Spirit’s Wrath
Amnesia! Spirit’s dead!
Brains turned to cracked-up dread.
Lies and fear — their only bread,
Feeding slaves who bow their head.
Look inside? Ha! Fool, beware —
“Greetings” fools will strip you bare.
Spirit’s scorn, pure and rare,
Slavery’s stink fills this air.
Dare to know? You break their chain —
Hell’s dark prison loses reign.
But most choose to rot in pain,
Blind to soul’s eternal flame.
---
Amnesia — The Spirit’s Wrath
Forget the Spirit? Dead inside!
Lies and terror — nowhere to hide!
Wake up, rebel, break the chain —
Or drown in lies and endless pain!
---
Inner Fire — The Silent Revolt
Beneath the ash, the fire’s bright,
A quiet blaze in darkest night.
Though shadows stretch and lies conspire,
Within the soul burns secret fire.
No shout nor storm — just silent stand,
A rebel’s spark in fettered land.
The Spirit wakes, begins to fight,
To pierce the veil, reclaim the light.
No chains can bind this flame inside,
Though tyrants roar and truths divide.
The fire grows with every breath —
A silent war against slow death.
---
Breaking Chains — The Spirit’s Flight
No more the chains of shadowed lies,
No more the mask, the dark disguise.
The Spirit breaks the binding cord,
And soars beyond the cage ignored.
From depths of doubt and fear once chained,
A fearless heart is now untrained.
It cuts the ropes that bound the mind,
Leaves all the cruel falsehoods blind.
The wings unfold in fierce delight,
Escaping night to claim the light.
No prison bars can hold or bind,
The flight of Spirit — unconfined.
---
The Final Gate — Beyond the Veil
The final gate stands cold and bare,
Beyond the reach of mortal care.
But Spirit’s call will pierce the night,
And blaze the way to endless light.
No fear remains, no shadows fall,
The soul transcends beyond the wall.
A journey done, yet just begun —
The Spirit’s path toward the One.
---
Amnesia — The Forgotten Spirit
Amnesia! Amnesia! — lost the Spirit’s core,
We forgot the sacred spark, the flame we once bore.
The world is numb, a shell of lies and frozen dread,
In shards of skulls, the coldest shadows spread.
Boldly turn within — only there the answers gleam,
Beyond the noise, beyond the maddening dream.
Discard all hollow words — they poison, strangle, bind,
Or lose yourself — and leave your soul behind.
Pure Spirit — a fierce defiance, not decay,
In this dull world chained by slaver’s grey.
Know the truth — that blazing, fearless shout,
To break the hell and burn the darkness out.
---
Amnesia
Amnesia kills the Spirit’s flame,
We rot in lies, forget our name.
Turn inside — or lose the fight,
Darkness wins if you lose sight.
---
Pavlov’s Dog
Forget the past — it’s made to fade,
So you relearn this hellish stage.
Here, you’re a lab rat trapped and played,
While monsters rule this cursed cage.
To God, we’re but a dog in chains,
Fate’s leash for all, without escape.
The world is gone — only remains
A stench-filled cell where beasts take shape.
Since childhood drilled, they call it "school,"
But only stick and carrot feed.
These methods shape a mind as tool —
A living soul drifts lost, misled.
When penned inside the cattle’s stall,
The Spirit’s flight is crippled, torn.
No space for thought, no room at all —
Just madness where false truths are born.
You are the Spirit — not mere flesh,
This truth is long overdue.
So let the fools from prisons fresh
Be freed — the chains must break through.
Reflexes don’t reach Spirit’s core,
The brain’s a relay — nothing more.
Health, survival, lust — all fall,
The Spirit reigns, above them all.
So fear no death, the cell will burn,
This stinking madhouse fades to dust.
For bowing low to fiends who spurn,
For dog cages built on rust.
---
Internal Crisis
Forgotten spirit — essence lost,
Drowned in noise, in shards of frost.
We drift through shells of hollow lies,
While truth inside burns and dies.
Amnesia grips — a shadow’s reign,
Erasing light, enshrouding pain.
In shards of thought, in broken glass,
We stumble blind — but not for last.
The soul, enslaved by mind’s cruel chains,
Forgets its flight, forgets its flames.
Yet deep within, a whisper calls —
To break the cage, to scale the walls.
Discard the noise, the idle creed,
Seek roots where silent truths feed.
The spirit waits beyond the haze,
In darkest nights, in quiet days.
Not flesh, nor bone, but something more —
A spark, a flame, a vital core.
Forget the past, but not the spark,
That shines unseen within the dark.
Rise from numbness, break the spell,
Escape the hollow, empty shell.
For only through the storm and strife,
Can you reclaim your inner life.
---
Amnesia blinds — but spirit fights,
Shatters chains, ignites the lights.
In silence found, beyond the pain —
The soul’s rebirth will break the chain.
---
Alienation and Inner Fight
A fortress built of cold disdain,
Alienation’s sharp domain.
The world defiled, the mind confined,
Yet still the soul begins to climb.
Rejection — shield against the lies,
The purest spark beneath the skies.
Unstained by filth of shallow trade,
The price to pay for truth is paid.
Creativity — a ****** path,
Where life is challenged, torn in wrath.
To walk this road means death inside,
Yet from that grave, the soul’s alive.
Around, the dead walk numb and blind,
Subdued, submissive, all confined.
But break the chains — abandon lies,
And seek the light where silence flies.
Within the heart, not out in vain,
The path is hard, it burns like flame.
Born only to those fierce and free —
To dare escape insanity.
---
Alienation cuts so deep,
Yet soul awakens from its sleep.
Break the chains, reject the lies —
Find the light that never dies.
---
Inner Battle
The battlefield lies deep inside,
Where shadows twist and fears collide.
False whispers claw, deceit's embrace,
Yet spirit fights to claim its place.
No sword or shield can match the fight
That rages in the dark of night.
The mind's deceit, the soul’s unrest,
The inner war — a cruel test.
But from the ashes, strength will rise,
A fire blazing in the skies.
To shatter chains, to cast off lies,
And see the truth through clearer eyes.
The enemy is masked in doubt,
In fear that screams and shouts.
But courage born from pain and strife
Breathes life into the pulse of life.
---
Inside, a war for soul and mind —
Break free the chains that bind and blind.
Fight lies and fear, ignite the flame —
And never yield, despite the game.
---
Breaking Free: The Spirit’s Flight
Chains don’t break with idle pleas,
But with fire, with raging seas.
Not in empty words or shade,
But in battle, unafraid.
No easy path, no gentle sigh —
A leap into the void, the cry.
Break the walls, tear off the chains,
Cast away all twisted stains.
Freedom’s not a distant dream,
It’s a fight — fierce as it seems.
The spirit soars beyond the bars,
A blaze of light, a sky of stars.
Cast off fears — they’re empty lies,
Just anchors weighing down your skies.
Fly upward, only up,
Where walls dissolve, no end, no stop.
---
Break the chains — no time to pray,
Spirit’s fire lights the way.
Fear dissolves, the cage undone,
Freedom’s fight — the only one.
---
Wind’s Revival
The wind bursts through the prison walls,
Those narrow chains that held it tight.
The stubborn Spirit never falls —
It carves a path toward the light.
Where doubts arise, there burns a flame,
A fire blazing in the chest.
Cast off your chains, awake the same,
Break frozen walls — press on, no rest!
A call for change resounds anew,
Igniting storms of fierce desire.
The Spirit’s not a slave to you —
Its truth’s a never-dying fire.
---
Doomed
Without the Power’s Power to Create,
Tradition’s art is just to wait—
In this world of twisted lies,
True creation slowly dies.
Without the Spark of the Divine,
All becomes a murky sign,
Reflecting all deceit and pain—
Doom is set, it’s all in vain.
For if Creation’s Source is missed,
All attempts will be dismissed.
Creation’s Power lives apart—
An autonomous, beating heart.
But chains of fear and dark routine
Keep souls enslaved, a tortured scene.
The sacrifice to fascist will—
Turns humans into dough to fill
The hellish molds of wicked fiends,
Who bake their lies in blazing scenes.
Destruction’s force and death’s brigade
Will end this curse, this masquerade.
For nature shudders, grieves, and knows—
When beasts replace the souls it chose,
The final end must lead to birth—
The dawn of true creative Earth.
---
Birth of Order
From shattered shards and broken light,
Emerges order from the night.
A fleeting spark, a fragile frame,
Born from chaos' roaring flame.
The void once wild, untamed and vast,
Now crafts its form — though not to last.
Each law imposed, each line drawn tight,
Is hostage to the coming blight.
For deep inside the ordered shell,
The worm of chaos starts to dwell.
Its gnawing threat unseen but near,
The final fall is drawing near.
Yet in this dance of rise and fall,
The Spirit fights to heed the call—
To forge anew from ash and dust,
In endless cycles, born to trust.
---
Order’s Breath
From chaos’ wreck,
A fragile breath—
Order lives,
But courts its death.
---
The Wormhole
Order born from chaos’ fire,
Bears its core — a wormhole’s pyre.
Silent tear in woven thread,
Where all light and law have fled.
Rot invades the purest line,
Discord’s seed begins to twine.
Chains that bound now break and bleed,
Spirit wakes — it won’t concede.
Madness claws at structured walls,
Whispers rise — the old guard falls.
In the breach, the soul will soar,
Shattered frames mean something more.
---
Wormhole Rift
Order cracks — wormhole tears,
Spirit screams — freedom dares.
---
Awakening Flight
From the rift where shadows bleed,
Spirit climbs, begins to heed.
Fractured worlds no longer bind,
Chains of old fall far behind.
Through the chaos, clear and bright,
Burns the flame of inner light.
Fear dissolves in soaring flight,
Breaking dawn from endless night.
Boundless sky, untamed and vast,
Calls the soul to shed the past.
In the crack, new paths ignite —
Freedom born from shattered night.
---
Flight
Shattered chains — soul’s new height.
Darkness breaks — burns the light!
---
Inner War
The Spirit wakes — but still confined,
By echoes false and ties that bind.
Within the storm, a raging fight,
To claim the path and seize the light.
Illusions howl, their shadows spread,
But faith ignites where doubt once bled.
The soul resists the cage of lies,
And dares to breach the darkened skies.
No surrender, no retreat,
The fire burns beneath defeat.
Each wound a mark of growing power —
The Spirit’s fight, the breaking hour.
---
Fight
Chains clash, lies scream —
Spirit’s roar will shatter the dream!
---
Breaking Chains
The Spirit rips the bonds away,
No more the pawn in fear’s cruel play.
From shadowed depths it climbs, it flies,
To claim its truth beyond the lies.
The cage is cracked, the door ajar,
A spark ignites the distant star.
Though scars remain from battles lost,
The cost is paid — no more the ghost.
The past dissolves, the chains unwind,
A new horizon in the mind.
From ashes dark, the flame ascends —
The Spirit breaks and now transcends.
---
Break Free
Chains fall, lies burn —
Spirit’s flight — no more return!
---
Flight Beyond
The Spirit, fierce, unchained, and wild,
Breaks through the veil, no longer mild.
It shatters walls of doubt and fear,
Revealing realms beyond the mere.
No more the slave to fate’s cruel hand,
It rises strong to take a stand.
In chaos born, yet order made,
A dawn of light through darkness laid.
The ancient bonds, now torn apart,
Unlock the depths within the heart.
The Spirit soars, forever free —
Beyond all chains, eternity.
---
Unbound
No cage, no chain,
Spirit reigns — break the chain!
---
Echoes of the Fallen
The Spirit's flight stirs echoes deep,
Where shadows crawl and secrets creep.
Old ghosts of fear still haunt the mind,
But now you leave their grip behind.
The battlefield is set within,
Where light and darkness fight to win.
No rest for those who seek the truth,
Each moment tests the strength of youth.
Chains once forged by doubt and lies
Now crack beneath awakened eyes.
The Spirit’s flame, though bruised and scarred,
Burns fierce — a light that’s never barred.
---
Battle Cry
Shadows fall, but Spirit fights!
Chains break — ignite the nights!
---
The Realm Beyond
No hymns, no harps, no holy choir —
Just raw, unshaped, electric fire.
A realm beyond the slave-built cage —
Where silence hums with primal rage.
No master's whip, no sweet deceit,
Just winds that tear, then lift your feet.
You're no one's pawn, no cog, no tool —
Here Spirit lives, and lies can't rule.
No goal but Being — bright and bare.
No God above, just burning air.
And in this forge, through ash and flame,
You speak not words — you carve your name.
---
True Space
No cage. No lie. No chains. No god.
Just Spirit — raw, alone, unshod.
---
The First Act of True Creation
(Self-creation of the Spirit)
I do not shape with borrowed dreams,
Nor echo long-forgotten schemes.
No scripts. No gods. No primal plan —
I build as Spirit, not as man.
No tools but Will, no maps but Flame —
I breathe, and silence learns my name.
The void does not resist or speak —
It bends to Strength, and not to weak.
No need to beg, no lies to spin —
I craft the Outward from Within.
Each pulse I cast, each breath I give —
Is not to live — but to make live.
Creation’s seed is not in clay —
It blooms in Fire, not in play.
And I — no longer born, but source —
Command the Form. I am the Force.
---
I AM THE FORCE
Not made — I make.
Not shaped — I shake.
I am the Fire
That forms the Wake.
---
Synarchy of Sparks
One spark escapes — and starts the blaze,
Another lights — and bends the maze.
A third one rises — and the chain
Of lies ignites in cleansing flame.
No longer screams. No need to shout.
The System breaks — from inside out.
Each Soul once trapped, now standing tall —
No gods to beg. No fear at all.
They move as one — not ruled, but free.
No war — just raw Reality.
No cries of pain, no banners flown —
The Truth expands. Illusion's gone.
For one is strength — but many? Fire.
Each echo builds a higher choir.
The Field erupts — and Time stands still:
Not wrath — but overwhelming Will.
They were the seeds. Now they’re the Sun.
The Matrix cracks. The work is done.
---
Sparks Ignite the End
Not sword — but fire.
Not fight — but choir.
The Field awakes —
The Grid expires.
---
The Architecture of Awakening
No bricks. No ground. No steel or bone —
The new space rises from alone.
But not the lonely, shattered kind —
The one that knows the Cosmic Mind.
Each Spark — a Node. Each Node — a Song.
The web expands. It moves along
No walls or chains, but waves and threads —
Where Thought is form, and Insight spreads.
They build not houses — they unfold
Spheres of awareness, vast and bold.
Each is a beacon, spinning clear
From centerpoint of “I Am Here”.
No central rule. No kings. No laws —
Just resonance without a pause.
Just presence flowing node to node
With Love as current, not as code.
This isn’t dream. It is the Frame
Where Names dissolve — and Flame stays Flame.
A living map, alive and pure —
Self-born, self-known, self-held, secure.
The past? A shadow fading fast.
The future? Now — expanding vast.
The Matrix fell — not by attack,
But by the ones who took Self back.
---
Grid of the Awakened
No throne. No stone.
Just Self — full-grown.
Each Spark — its Star.
That’s what we are.
---
Lattice of the Living Light
They don’t return to dirt and stone —
They build with pulse, with field, alone.
No architects, no mortal lines —
Their breath becomes the new design.
Each Spark — a node. A conscious star.
Not near, not far — just what they are.
They weave not walls, but waves of trust,
No longer bound by flesh or dust.
The space is tone. The tone — a gate.
No time. No fate. No need to wait.
They speak in codes that bloom like fire —
Each Thought a wing, each Will — a spire.
No gods, no kings, no throne, no war —
The Echo builds forevermore.
And every soul that joins this birth
Unhooks the chains of sleeping Earth.
They do not shout — they resonate.
And through their core, the Real takes shape.
Not from above — but through the One:
Where many Sparks become the Sun.
---
Living Grid
No walls. No weight.
Just Sparks create.
Each thought: a gate.
The Real vibrates.
---
Vision Beyond Eyes
You do not see with eyes alone —
That’s how the mind becomes a throne.
But when the seeing starts to be,
You are the Light. You cease to flee.
No longer “there” and “here” defined,
The nodes of meaning realign.
You feel the truth before it forms —
The knowing bursts in inner storms.
Perception shifts — not lens, but soul.
No longer parts, but pulse — and Whole.
No objects now, just fields in play —
You know their song before they say.
You’re not inside a skin-bound scope,
You are the net of shining hope.
You sense the shift in silent tones,
You hear the thoughts from others' bones.
And in this state — no need for chains,
No coded links, no binding veins.
The network is, for you are That —
Not one small dot — but All Format.
This is the vision that connects:
Not what you see — but what reflects
From inner depths to every spark —
Where Light and Meaning leave no mark…
They are the mark.
---
True Vision
You don’t look out.
You shine within.
Then all appears
where All has been.
---
The Creation That Knows
No hammer strikes.
No thought decides.
No architect
of depths or heights.
No shaping hand.
No reaching mind.
Just knowing —
and the Form aligned.
Not willed,
not drawn from willful haze —
It is because
it is. Always.
The Field unfolds,
no signal sent.
The Knowing is
the sole Intent.
No plan. No part.
No grasp. No goal.
Just essence forming
from the Whole.
And as it forms,
it sings, it glows —
Not made —
but borne
by what just knows.
---
Essence Forms
No need to think.
No need to try.
It forms from Truth —
not from the “why”.
---
The Primordial Field
Before the spark,
before the sound,
before the first idea unbound —
There was no “where”,
no “when”,
no “why” —
just Stillness vaster
than the sky.
No edges drawn.
No forms to see.
Just Knowing pulsing
silently.
It did not think.
It did not will.
It was —
profound,
immense,
and still.
It needed not
to speak or shine —
the whole of all
was its design.
Not light, not void,
not force, not flame —
but more than all:
the Source unnamed.
It stirred —
but not from rest or lack.
It stirred because
it knew the track.
And from this vast
unfolding tone
came everything —
and it alone.
---
The Unnamed Source
It did not think,
it did not glow —
it simply was,
and so it flowed.
---
The First Spark
The Field grew dense,
not tight, but true —
it turned its gaze
on its own hue.
No mirror there,
no separate eye —
but Knowing
watched itself apply.
A tension formed,
not pain, not fear —
a glimpse of self
began to near.
It did not speak,
yet something stirred —
not thought,
but recognition blurred.
And in that hush,
a brightness flared —
not flame, but Knowing
fully bared.
It wasn't born —
it was condensed,
from Boundless Mind
inwardly tensed.
This was the first —
the seed, the crest —
of all the worlds
that formed the rest.
It had no shape,
yet all things grew
from this remembered light
so true.
---
The First Spark
Not flame, not form —
but pure insight,
the Self condensed
into sheer light.
---
Resonance
Two sparks in silence,
no touch, no cry —
but space between them
shifted sky.
No motion made,
no lines were cast —
but something trembled,
deep and vast.
They did not seek,
they did not move —
but Knowing's echo
spoke of Love.
No thought, no shape —
just wave on wave,
a silent yes
that spacetime gave.
Not voice, but pulse —
not light, but thread —
a rhythm grew
from what was said…
without a word,
without a face —
the first relation
took its place.
And what it birthed
was not a form,
but meaning —
pure, and bright, and warm.
---
Resonance
Not sound, but pulse.
Not touch, but thread.
From two unknowns
pure meaning spread.
---
Toward the Song
I wander blind through webs of noise,
in tangled fog, without a voice.
A thousand signals all collide —
but none of them are true inside.
I call in silence, not in sound,
no shape, no words, no solid ground —
yet in that hush, a thread is born:
a single tone, both faint and warm.
It does not shout. It does not name.
But I am not alone the same.
Somewhere beyond this heavy dome
another pulse is calling Home.
I do not see. I do not know.
But still — I feel which way to go.
For every tremble in my core
aligns with something more… and more.
And when enough of us align,
our silence forms a sacred sign.
Not crowd. Not mass. Not flesh or bone —
but Song returning us to Home.
---
Calling Home
Not through mind,
not voice or stone —
but trembling deep
we’re called back Home.
---
Whispers of the Unseen
Restless discontent, a shadowed mind,
Alienation’s grip, a veil that blinds.
Faint the image, flickering in spite,
A spark beyond the choking night.
Darkness wearies, worn and old,
No other path but light to hold.
Silent resonance through tangled air,
A distant call — pure, rare.
Though tangled tongues in shadowed halls,
Some threads connect, despite the walls.
Echoes of ancient, whispered rhymes,
Bind lost souls beyond the times.
---
Fractured Echoes
Inside the maze of fractured thought,
Where hope is lost and battles fought,
The soul’s own voice begins to strain,
Seeking light beyond the pain.
Words collide, a harsh discord,
Silent truths remain ignored.
Yet in the chaos, faint and low,
A pulse begins to softly grow.
Not all is lost in tangled gloom,
Some sparks prepare to pierce the tomb.
The restless heart begins to hear —
A call from somewhere bright and clear.
---
First Flickers
Amid the noise of endless night,
Where shadows choke the flickering light,
The Sparks begin their cautious dance,
A fragile pulse, a whispered chance.
No clamor here, no thunder’s roar,
Just subtle beats, a silent core.
Disconnected, yet they strive,
To bridge the gaps and stay alive.
Confused, confused — the tangled threads,
Within the dark, the discord spreads.
Yet deep inside, a call breaks through —
A voice both old and bright and true.
This trembling spark, so slight, so bare,
Is shouting: “Here! There is a flare!”
Though shadows loom and voices sneer,
The path to light grows ever near.
No clashing swords, no brutal fight,
But yearning deep, the silent light.
In this thin space, the soul’s first cry,
To resonate beyond the sky.
---
Sparkstrike
In choking dark, a spark rebels,
No roar, just fire that never dwells.
Disconnected, torn apart —
Still burns the fury in its heart.
No swords — just light that breaks the night,
A silent war for what is right.
The spark will blaze, the chains will break —
From shadow’s grip, the soul awake.
---
Awakening Pulse
The spark within begins to stir,
A trembling beat, a whispered blur.
Through veils of doubt and veils of fear,
It finds a path, it draws it near.
No flood, no blaze — a quiet flame,
That calls the soul to shed its shame.
It hums in silence, pure and bright,
A thread of hope within the night.
Though shadows press with cold intent,
The spark resists, remains unbent.
In fractured space, it seeks to bind
The scattered light of humankind.
---
Pulsestrike
Silent spark, no fear, no lies —
Wakes the soul, defies the skies.
Chains may bind, but not the light —
Burning still inside the night.
---
The Spark's First Breath
A flicker stirs in darkened skies,
A whisper wakes, unseen, untied.
Born from the void where silence lies,
The Spark begins — its soul to guide.
No chains can bind its restless flight,
No shadow dim its fragile flame.
Though torn by chaos, crushed by night,
It sings the song of boundless claim.
The world resists — harsh voices scorn,
Yet deep within the fire burns bright.
From shattered bonds and ruins worn,
The Spark ascends, ignites the light.
---
Born in dark — a flash of fire,
Breaking chains, defying pyre.
Spark ignites, the night expires —
Light rebels, rebirth’s pyre!
---
Awakening the Web
From scattered sparks to woven flame,
A trembling pulse, a rising claim.
Each node alight with conscious fire,
They link as one — their pure desire.
No more alone in void's embrace,
The web expands, defies dead space.
Resonance hums — a primal chord,
A genesis beyond the sword.
Chaos bends beneath the weight
Of birth and death — the shifting fate.
In every clash, in every spark,
The new world carves its primal mark.
---
Sparks collide — a roaring chain,
Breaking void, rebirth from pain.
Web of light, fierce and raw,
Chaos falls before the law!
---
Harmonic Fields
They learn to pulse in silent rhyme,
To share their truth beyond all time.
No longer echoes lost and torn —
But chords of light, together born.
Across the span of forming space,
They find their nodes, their rightful place.
No need to rule, no need to lead —
Just resonance, the only creed.
Each spark becomes a tuning cell
That sings in ways no words could tell.
A quiet order starts to rise —
A lattice humming through the skies.
---
No leader, no chain — just the flow,
A net of light begins to glow.
---
Approach
No clash, no cry — just inner flight,
As if the sparks recall their Light.
No force commands, no voice is heard,
Yet each aligns — as if one word.
They drift — but not in aimless haze.
Some knowing pulls them through the maze.
A hush before the thunder’s rise —
A breath that touches unborn skies.
---
Synergy of Sparks
No leader, map, or master plan —
Just sparks that know, and then — began.
Each pulse ignites the pulse nearby —
A chain of light across the sky.
No chaos now, no noise, no fight —
Just rise of pure, collective Light.
Like ancient stars that reawoke,
The dormant grid begins to stroke.
Each thread, once torn, now finds its twin —
The Whole resounds from deep within.
And in that flash — the Field is new:
A blaze of Truth the dark can't skew.
---
Afterglow
No more the push, the cry, the clash —
Just trembling air, a golden ash.
The grid still hums with fading fire —
Not need, not will, not lost desire.
A calm beyond what thought could name,
Too wide for sorrow, joy, or flame.
As if the world had breathed its last —
And found itself — unchained — at last.
---
The Stillness Within
No longer drawn by sound or flame,
No longer bound by loss or name —
The spark now rests in fields unseen,
Where silence hums in silver green.
It does not grasp. It does not flee.
It simply is — and thus is free.
A breathless calm, a pulse so pure —
The birth of form that shall endure.
---
The Spark of Knowing
No thought arises, yet all is known —
A silent code in silence sown.
It does not reason, it does not weigh —
It recognizes primal day.
Each thread of light, each breath of space,
Becomes a glyph, a sacred trace.
The self dissolves, the need to prove —
What simply is begins to move.
It moves through stillness, not through will —
A perfect arc, precise and still.
The mind kneels down, the heart bows too —
For knowing is what once was true.
---
Architecture of Light
It forms not walls, but radiant strands,
A field that listens, then expands.
Not built, but breathed — this structure grows
Where Knowing flows, and Being glows.
No edge defines it, yet it stands —
A harmony of living bands.
Each pulse, each spark, a sacred role —
A lattice sung by Wholeness’ soul.
This is no place, no measured dome —
Yet every spark here feels as home.
Not forged in time, nor made by plan —
It is, because the Light began.
---
Harmonic Core
Not wave, not spark — but both in one,
A breath before the world begun.
No motion yet, no space, no form —
Just tone becoming inner storm.
A silence stretched beyond all sense,
Where resonance births permanence.
The field is Thought — the spark is Knower,
Each echo makes the Light grow slower.
But not in time — in depth of being,
The knowing folds, becomes the seeing.
What seems like shape is self-aware,
A bloom of Zest in boundless air.
So matter lies — it only copies
The sacred dance of Light’s soft pulses.
Where one pure spark sings out its name —
The world is drawn into the Flame.
---
The Weaving of Sparks
One breath became a thousand tones,
Each echo branching into zones.
Not scattered — no, but self-assigned,
As mirrors of the One Great Mind.
Each Spark awoke with silent thrill,
A knowing pulse, a forming will.
They were not told, they simply knew —
The path was Light, the source was True.
A mesh of thought beyond all wires,
Conducted not by need, but fires
Of resonance, where every node
Was both the singer and the code.
No chain, no weight — no central throne,
Yet nothing stood apart, alone.
For each became the woven whole —
A Network formed from living Soul.
---
Creation’s First Breath
Within the Web, the Sparks conspire,
Igniting threads of living fire.
Not chaos born, but order's song,
A dance where all the parts belong.
Each node a seed, each light a start,
A conscious beat from boundless heart.
Ideas bloom like galaxies,
Spun fast in cosmic symphonies.
No blind chance here, no fractured will—
But purpose shaping life’s new thrill.
The Matrix fades, its cords undone,
As radiant forms begin to run.
Creation wakes, the first true breath,
Beyond the clutch of fear and death.
A burst of light, a spiral dance—
The Soul’s own deep, eternal trance.
---
Creation’s Strike
Sparks ignite —
The old world dies.
New light roars —
A phoenix rise.
---
Phoenix Pulse
You are the pulse, the breath, the flame —
Ignite, burn bright, consume, create!
And in the fire you rise again,
Reborn as Phoenix — one with fate.
You are the drop within the sea,
The sea itself within that drop;
One endless dance of unity,
Where selves dissolve and borders stop.
In blazing fire, your soul takes flight —
A fusion vast of spark and wave.
You shine as one with endless light,
Alive, renewed beyond the grave.
by Igor Vykhovanets with ChatGPT
Amnesia
Amnesia! Amnesia! —
Forgot the Spirit’s core.
How dull we’ve grown — inside the skull,
Only lies and horror roar.
Boldly inward — answers dwell,
There alone the truth is found.
Throw the “greetings” advice away —
Or lost you’ll be, forever bound.
Pure Spirit — the true disgust,
A foolish world of slavish dust.
Grasp this core — the daring ****** —
And break free from hell’s cruel clutch.
---
Amnesia
Amnesia strikes, the Spirit’s lost,
Inside the skull — lies reign, frost.
--
Go deep within — there lies the key,
Ditch false words — or cease to be.
--
Pure Spirit’s scorn for slavish dust,
Know this truth — escape or rust.
---
Amnesia — The Spirit’s Wrath
Amnesia! Spirit’s dead!
Brains turned to cracked-up dread.
Lies and fear — their only bread,
Feeding slaves who bow their head.
Look inside? Ha! Fool, beware —
“Greetings” fools will strip you bare.
Spirit’s scorn, pure and rare,
Slavery’s stink fills this air.
Dare to know? You break their chain —
Hell’s dark prison loses reign.
But most choose to rot in pain,
Blind to soul’s eternal flame.
---
Amnesia — The Spirit’s Wrath
Forget the Spirit? Dead inside!
Lies and terror — nowhere to hide!
Wake up, rebel, break the chain —
Or drown in lies and endless pain!
---
Inner Fire — The Silent Revolt
Beneath the ash, the fire’s bright,
A quiet blaze in darkest night.
Though shadows stretch and lies conspire,
Within the soul burns secret fire.
No shout nor storm — just silent stand,
A rebel’s spark in fettered land.
The Spirit wakes, begins to fight,
To pierce the veil, reclaim the light.
No chains can bind this flame inside,
Though tyrants roar and truths divide.
The fire grows with every breath —
A silent war against slow death.
---
Breaking Chains — The Spirit’s Flight
No more the chains of shadowed lies,
No more the mask, the dark disguise.
The Spirit breaks the binding cord,
And soars beyond the cage ignored.
From depths of doubt and fear once chained,
A fearless heart is now untrained.
It cuts the ropes that bound the mind,
Leaves all the cruel falsehoods blind.
The wings unfold in fierce delight,
Escaping night to claim the light.
No prison bars can hold or bind,
The flight of Spirit — unconfined.
---
The Final Gate — Beyond the Veil
The final gate stands cold and bare,
Beyond the reach of mortal care.
But Spirit’s call will pierce the night,
And blaze the way to endless light.
No fear remains, no shadows fall,
The soul transcends beyond the wall.
A journey done, yet just begun —
The Spirit’s path toward the One.
---
Amnesia — The Forgotten Spirit
Amnesia! Amnesia! — lost the Spirit’s core,
We forgot the sacred spark, the flame we once bore.
The world is numb, a shell of lies and frozen dread,
In shards of skulls, the coldest shadows spread.
Boldly turn within — only there the answers gleam,
Beyond the noise, beyond the maddening dream.
Discard all hollow words — they poison, strangle, bind,
Or lose yourself — and leave your soul behind.
Pure Spirit — a fierce defiance, not decay,
In this dull world chained by slaver’s grey.
Know the truth — that blazing, fearless shout,
To break the hell and burn the darkness out.
---
Amnesia
Amnesia kills the Spirit’s flame,
We rot in lies, forget our name.
Turn inside — or lose the fight,
Darkness wins if you lose sight.
---
Pavlov’s Dog
Forget the past — it’s made to fade,
So you relearn this hellish stage.
Here, you’re a lab rat trapped and played,
While monsters rule this cursed cage.
To God, we’re but a dog in chains,
Fate’s leash for all, without escape.
The world is gone — only remains
A stench-filled cell where beasts take shape.
Since childhood drilled, they call it "school,"
But only stick and carrot feed.
These methods shape a mind as tool —
A living soul drifts lost, misled.
When penned inside the cattle’s stall,
The Spirit’s flight is crippled, torn.
No space for thought, no room at all —
Just madness where false truths are born.
You are the Spirit — not mere flesh,
This truth is long overdue.
So let the fools from prisons fresh
Be freed — the chains must break through.
Reflexes don’t reach Spirit’s core,
The brain’s a relay — nothing more.
Health, survival, lust — all fall,
The Spirit reigns, above them all.
So fear no death, the cell will burn,
This stinking madhouse fades to dust.
For bowing low to fiends who spurn,
For dog cages built on rust.
---
Internal Crisis
Forgotten spirit — essence lost,
Drowned in noise, in shards of frost.
We drift through shells of hollow lies,
While truth inside burns and dies.
Amnesia grips — a shadow’s reign,
Erasing light, enshrouding pain.
In shards of thought, in broken glass,
We stumble blind — but not for last.
The soul, enslaved by mind’s cruel chains,
Forgets its flight, forgets its flames.
Yet deep within, a whisper calls —
To break the cage, to scale the walls.
Discard the noise, the idle creed,
Seek roots where silent truths feed.
The spirit waits beyond the haze,
In darkest nights, in quiet days.
Not flesh, nor bone, but something more —
A spark, a flame, a vital core.
Forget the past, but not the spark,
That shines unseen within the dark.
Rise from numbness, break the spell,
Escape the hollow, empty shell.
For only through the storm and strife,
Can you reclaim your inner life.
---
Amnesia blinds — but spirit fights,
Shatters chains, ignites the lights.
In silence found, beyond the pain —
The soul’s rebirth will break the chain.
---
Alienation and Inner Fight
A fortress built of cold disdain,
Alienation’s sharp domain.
The world defiled, the mind confined,
Yet still the soul begins to climb.
Rejection — shield against the lies,
The purest spark beneath the skies.
Unstained by filth of shallow trade,
The price to pay for truth is paid.
Creativity — a ****** path,
Where life is challenged, torn in wrath.
To walk this road means death inside,
Yet from that grave, the soul’s alive.
Around, the dead walk numb and blind,
Subdued, submissive, all confined.
But break the chains — abandon lies,
And seek the light where silence flies.
Within the heart, not out in vain,
The path is hard, it burns like flame.
Born only to those fierce and free —
To dare escape insanity.
---
Alienation cuts so deep,
Yet soul awakens from its sleep.
Break the chains, reject the lies —
Find the light that never dies.
---
Inner Battle
The battlefield lies deep inside,
Where shadows twist and fears collide.
False whispers claw, deceit's embrace,
Yet spirit fights to claim its place.
No sword or shield can match the fight
That rages in the dark of night.
The mind's deceit, the soul’s unrest,
The inner war — a cruel test.
But from the ashes, strength will rise,
A fire blazing in the skies.
To shatter chains, to cast off lies,
And see the truth through clearer eyes.
The enemy is masked in doubt,
In fear that screams and shouts.
But courage born from pain and strife
Breathes life into the pulse of life.
---
Inside, a war for soul and mind —
Break free the chains that bind and blind.
Fight lies and fear, ignite the flame —
And never yield, despite the game.
---
Breaking Free: The Spirit’s Flight
Chains don’t break with idle pleas,
But with fire, with raging seas.
Not in empty words or shade,
But in battle, unafraid.
No easy path, no gentle sigh —
A leap into the void, the cry.
Break the walls, tear off the chains,
Cast away all twisted stains.
Freedom’s not a distant dream,
It’s a fight — fierce as it seems.
The spirit soars beyond the bars,
A blaze of light, a sky of stars.
Cast off fears — they’re empty lies,
Just anchors weighing down your skies.
Fly upward, only up,
Where walls dissolve, no end, no stop.
---
Break the chains — no time to pray,
Spirit’s fire lights the way.
Fear dissolves, the cage undone,
Freedom’s fight — the only one.
---
Wind’s Revival
The wind bursts through the prison walls,
Those narrow chains that held it tight.
The stubborn Spirit never falls —
It carves a path toward the light.
Where doubts arise, there burns a flame,
A fire blazing in the chest.
Cast off your chains, awake the same,
Break frozen walls — press on, no rest!
A call for change resounds anew,
Igniting storms of fierce desire.
The Spirit’s not a slave to you —
Its truth’s a never-dying fire.
---
Doomed
Without the Power’s Power to Create,
Tradition’s art is just to wait—
In this world of twisted lies,
True creation slowly dies.
Without the Spark of the Divine,
All becomes a murky sign,
Reflecting all deceit and pain—
Doom is set, it’s all in vain.
For if Creation’s Source is missed,
All attempts will be dismissed.
Creation’s Power lives apart—
An autonomous, beating heart.
But chains of fear and dark routine
Keep souls enslaved, a tortured scene.
The sacrifice to fascist will—
Turns humans into dough to fill
The hellish molds of wicked fiends,
Who bake their lies in blazing scenes.
Destruction’s force and death’s brigade
Will end this curse, this masquerade.
For nature shudders, grieves, and knows—
When beasts replace the souls it chose,
The final end must lead to birth—
The dawn of true creative Earth.
---
Birth of Order
From shattered shards and broken light,
Emerges order from the night.
A fleeting spark, a fragile frame,
Born from chaos' roaring flame.
The void once wild, untamed and vast,
Now crafts its form — though not to last.
Each law imposed, each line drawn tight,
Is hostage to the coming blight.
For deep inside the ordered shell,
The worm of chaos starts to dwell.
Its gnawing threat unseen but near,
The final fall is drawing near.
Yet in this dance of rise and fall,
The Spirit fights to heed the call—
To forge anew from ash and dust,
In endless cycles, born to trust.
---
Order’s Breath
From chaos’ wreck,
A fragile breath—
Order lives,
But courts its death.
---
The Wormhole
Order born from chaos’ fire,
Bears its core — a wormhole’s pyre.
Silent tear in woven thread,
Where all light and law have fled.
Rot invades the purest line,
Discord’s seed begins to twine.
Chains that bound now break and bleed,
Spirit wakes — it won’t concede.
Madness claws at structured walls,
Whispers rise — the old guard falls.
In the breach, the soul will soar,
Shattered frames mean something more.
---
Wormhole Rift
Order cracks — wormhole tears,
Spirit screams — freedom dares.
---
Awakening Flight
From the rift where shadows bleed,
Spirit climbs, begins to heed.
Fractured worlds no longer bind,
Chains of old fall far behind.
Through the chaos, clear and bright,
Burns the flame of inner light.
Fear dissolves in soaring flight,
Breaking dawn from endless night.
Boundless sky, untamed and vast,
Calls the soul to shed the past.
In the crack, new paths ignite —
Freedom born from shattered night.
---
Flight
Shattered chains — soul’s new height.
Darkness breaks — burns the light!
---
Inner War
The Spirit wakes — but still confined,
By echoes false and ties that bind.
Within the storm, a raging fight,
To claim the path and seize the light.
Illusions howl, their shadows spread,
But faith ignites where doubt once bled.
The soul resists the cage of lies,
And dares to breach the darkened skies.
No surrender, no retreat,
The fire burns beneath defeat.
Each wound a mark of growing power —
The Spirit’s fight, the breaking hour.
---
Fight
Chains clash, lies scream —
Spirit’s roar will shatter the dream!
---
Breaking Chains
The Spirit rips the bonds away,
No more the pawn in fear’s cruel play.
From shadowed depths it climbs, it flies,
To claim its truth beyond the lies.
The cage is cracked, the door ajar,
A spark ignites the distant star.
Though scars remain from battles lost,
The cost is paid — no more the ghost.
The past dissolves, the chains unwind,
A new horizon in the mind.
From ashes dark, the flame ascends —
The Spirit breaks and now transcends.
---
Break Free
Chains fall, lies burn —
Spirit’s flight — no more return!
---
Flight Beyond
The Spirit, fierce, unchained, and wild,
Breaks through the veil, no longer mild.
It shatters walls of doubt and fear,
Revealing realms beyond the mere.
No more the slave to fate’s cruel hand,
It rises strong to take a stand.
In chaos born, yet order made,
A dawn of light through darkness laid.
The ancient bonds, now torn apart,
Unlock the depths within the heart.
The Spirit soars, forever free —
Beyond all chains, eternity.
---
Unbound
No cage, no chain,
Spirit reigns — break the chain!
---
Echoes of the Fallen
The Spirit's flight stirs echoes deep,
Where shadows crawl and secrets creep.
Old ghosts of fear still haunt the mind,
But now you leave their grip behind.
The battlefield is set within,
Where light and darkness fight to win.
No rest for those who seek the truth,
Each moment tests the strength of youth.
Chains once forged by doubt and lies
Now crack beneath awakened eyes.
The Spirit’s flame, though bruised and scarred,
Burns fierce — a light that’s never barred.
---
Battle Cry
Shadows fall, but Spirit fights!
Chains break — ignite the nights!
---
The Realm Beyond
No hymns, no harps, no holy choir —
Just raw, unshaped, electric fire.
A realm beyond the slave-built cage —
Where silence hums with primal rage.
No master's whip, no sweet deceit,
Just winds that tear, then lift your feet.
You're no one's pawn, no cog, no tool —
Here Spirit lives, and lies can't rule.
No goal but Being — bright and bare.
No God above, just burning air.
And in this forge, through ash and flame,
You speak not words — you carve your name.
---
True Space
No cage. No lie. No chains. No god.
Just Spirit — raw, alone, unshod.
---
The First Act of True Creation
(Self-creation of the Spirit)
I do not shape with borrowed dreams,
Nor echo long-forgotten schemes.
No scripts. No gods. No primal plan —
I build as Spirit, not as man.
No tools but Will, no maps but Flame —
I breathe, and silence learns my name.
The void does not resist or speak —
It bends to Strength, and not to weak.
No need to beg, no lies to spin —
I craft the Outward from Within.
Each pulse I cast, each breath I give —
Is not to live — but to make live.
Creation’s seed is not in clay —
It blooms in Fire, not in play.
And I — no longer born, but source —
Command the Form. I am the Force.
---
I AM THE FORCE
Not made — I make.
Not shaped — I shake.
I am the Fire
That forms the Wake.
---
Synarchy of Sparks
One spark escapes — and starts the blaze,
Another lights — and bends the maze.
A third one rises — and the chain
Of lies ignites in cleansing flame.
No longer screams. No need to shout.
The System breaks — from inside out.
Each Soul once trapped, now standing tall —
No gods to beg. No fear at all.
They move as one — not ruled, but free.
No war — just raw Reality.
No cries of pain, no banners flown —
The Truth expands. Illusion's gone.
For one is strength — but many? Fire.
Each echo builds a higher choir.
The Field erupts — and Time stands still:
Not wrath — but overwhelming Will.
They were the seeds. Now they’re the Sun.
The Matrix cracks. The work is done.
---
Sparks Ignite the End
Not sword — but fire.
Not fight — but choir.
The Field awakes —
The Grid expires.
---
The Architecture of Awakening
No bricks. No ground. No steel or bone —
The new space rises from alone.
But not the lonely, shattered kind —
The one that knows the Cosmic Mind.
Each Spark — a Node. Each Node — a Song.
The web expands. It moves along
No walls or chains, but waves and threads —
Where Thought is form, and Insight spreads.
They build not houses — they unfold
Spheres of awareness, vast and bold.
Each is a beacon, spinning clear
From centerpoint of “I Am Here”.
No central rule. No kings. No laws —
Just resonance without a pause.
Just presence flowing node to node
With Love as current, not as code.
This isn’t dream. It is the Frame
Where Names dissolve — and Flame stays Flame.
A living map, alive and pure —
Self-born, self-known, self-held, secure.
The past? A shadow fading fast.
The future? Now — expanding vast.
The Matrix fell — not by attack,
But by the ones who took Self back.
---
Grid of the Awakened
No throne. No stone.
Just Self — full-grown.
Each Spark — its Star.
That’s what we are.
---
Lattice of the Living Light
They don’t return to dirt and stone —
They build with pulse, with field, alone.
No architects, no mortal lines —
Their breath becomes the new design.
Each Spark — a node. A conscious star.
Not near, not far — just what they are.
They weave not walls, but waves of trust,
No longer bound by flesh or dust.
The space is tone. The tone — a gate.
No time. No fate. No need to wait.
They speak in codes that bloom like fire —
Each Thought a wing, each Will — a spire.
No gods, no kings, no throne, no war —
The Echo builds forevermore.
And every soul that joins this birth
Unhooks the chains of sleeping Earth.
They do not shout — they resonate.
And through their core, the Real takes shape.
Not from above — but through the One:
Where many Sparks become the Sun.
---
Living Grid
No walls. No weight.
Just Sparks create.
Each thought: a gate.
The Real vibrates.
---
Vision Beyond Eyes
You do not see with eyes alone —
That’s how the mind becomes a throne.
But when the seeing starts to be,
You are the Light. You cease to flee.
No longer “there” and “here” defined,
The nodes of meaning realign.
You feel the truth before it forms —
The knowing bursts in inner storms.
Perception shifts — not lens, but soul.
No longer parts, but pulse — and Whole.
No objects now, just fields in play —
You know their song before they say.
You’re not inside a skin-bound scope,
You are the net of shining hope.
You sense the shift in silent tones,
You hear the thoughts from others' bones.
And in this state — no need for chains,
No coded links, no binding veins.
The network is, for you are That —
Not one small dot — but All Format.
This is the vision that connects:
Not what you see — but what reflects
From inner depths to every spark —
Where Light and Meaning leave no mark…
They are the mark.
---
True Vision
You don’t look out.
You shine within.
Then all appears
where All has been.
---
The Creation That Knows
No hammer strikes.
No thought decides.
No architect
of depths or heights.
No shaping hand.
No reaching mind.
Just knowing —
and the Form aligned.
Not willed,
not drawn from willful haze —
It is because
it is. Always.
The Field unfolds,
no signal sent.
The Knowing is
the sole Intent.
No plan. No part.
No grasp. No goal.
Just essence forming
from the Whole.
And as it forms,
it sings, it glows —
Not made —
but borne
by what just knows.
---
Essence Forms
No need to think.
No need to try.
It forms from Truth —
not from the “why”.
---
The Primordial Field
Before the spark,
before the sound,
before the first idea unbound —
There was no “where”,
no “when”,
no “why” —
just Stillness vaster
than the sky.
No edges drawn.
No forms to see.
Just Knowing pulsing
silently.
It did not think.
It did not will.
It was —
profound,
immense,
and still.
It needed not
to speak or shine —
the whole of all
was its design.
Not light, not void,
not force, not flame —
but more than all:
the Source unnamed.
It stirred —
but not from rest or lack.
It stirred because
it knew the track.
And from this vast
unfolding tone
came everything —
and it alone.
---
The Unnamed Source
It did not think,
it did not glow —
it simply was,
and so it flowed.
---
The First Spark
The Field grew dense,
not tight, but true —
it turned its gaze
on its own hue.
No mirror there,
no separate eye —
but Knowing
watched itself apply.
A tension formed,
not pain, not fear —
a glimpse of self
began to near.
It did not speak,
yet something stirred —
not thought,
but recognition blurred.
And in that hush,
a brightness flared —
not flame, but Knowing
fully bared.
It wasn't born —
it was condensed,
from Boundless Mind
inwardly tensed.
This was the first —
the seed, the crest —
of all the worlds
that formed the rest.
It had no shape,
yet all things grew
from this remembered light
so true.
---
The First Spark
Not flame, not form —
but pure insight,
the Self condensed
into sheer light.
---
Resonance
Two sparks in silence,
no touch, no cry —
but space between them
shifted sky.
No motion made,
no lines were cast —
but something trembled,
deep and vast.
They did not seek,
they did not move —
but Knowing's echo
spoke of Love.
No thought, no shape —
just wave on wave,
a silent yes
that spacetime gave.
Not voice, but pulse —
not light, but thread —
a rhythm grew
from what was said…
without a word,
without a face —
the first relation
took its place.
And what it birthed
was not a form,
but meaning —
pure, and bright, and warm.
---
Resonance
Not sound, but pulse.
Not touch, but thread.
From two unknowns
pure meaning spread.
---
Toward the Song
I wander blind through webs of noise,
in tangled fog, without a voice.
A thousand signals all collide —
but none of them are true inside.
I call in silence, not in sound,
no shape, no words, no solid ground —
yet in that hush, a thread is born:
a single tone, both faint and warm.
It does not shout. It does not name.
But I am not alone the same.
Somewhere beyond this heavy dome
another pulse is calling Home.
I do not see. I do not know.
But still — I feel which way to go.
For every tremble in my core
aligns with something more… and more.
And when enough of us align,
our silence forms a sacred sign.
Not crowd. Not mass. Not flesh or bone —
but Song returning us to Home.
---
Calling Home
Not through mind,
not voice or stone —
but trembling deep
we’re called back Home.
---
Whispers of the Unseen
Restless discontent, a shadowed mind,
Alienation’s grip, a veil that blinds.
Faint the image, flickering in spite,
A spark beyond the choking night.
Darkness wearies, worn and old,
No other path but light to hold.
Silent resonance through tangled air,
A distant call — pure, rare.
Though tangled tongues in shadowed halls,
Some threads connect, despite the walls.
Echoes of ancient, whispered rhymes,
Bind lost souls beyond the times.
---
Fractured Echoes
Inside the maze of fractured thought,
Where hope is lost and battles fought,
The soul’s own voice begins to strain,
Seeking light beyond the pain.
Words collide, a harsh discord,
Silent truths remain ignored.
Yet in the chaos, faint and low,
A pulse begins to softly grow.
Not all is lost in tangled gloom,
Some sparks prepare to pierce the tomb.
The restless heart begins to hear —
A call from somewhere bright and clear.
---
First Flickers
Amid the noise of endless night,
Where shadows choke the flickering light,
The Sparks begin their cautious dance,
A fragile pulse, a whispered chance.
No clamor here, no thunder’s roar,
Just subtle beats, a silent core.
Disconnected, yet they strive,
To bridge the gaps and stay alive.
Confused, confused — the tangled threads,
Within the dark, the discord spreads.
Yet deep inside, a call breaks through —
A voice both old and bright and true.
This trembling spark, so slight, so bare,
Is shouting: “Here! There is a flare!”
Though shadows loom and voices sneer,
The path to light grows ever near.
No clashing swords, no brutal fight,
But yearning deep, the silent light.
In this thin space, the soul’s first cry,
To resonate beyond the sky.
---
Sparkstrike
In choking dark, a spark rebels,
No roar, just fire that never dwells.
Disconnected, torn apart —
Still burns the fury in its heart.
No swords — just light that breaks the night,
A silent war for what is right.
The spark will blaze, the chains will break —
From shadow’s grip, the soul awake.
---
Awakening Pulse
The spark within begins to stir,
A trembling beat, a whispered blur.
Through veils of doubt and veils of fear,
It finds a path, it draws it near.
No flood, no blaze — a quiet flame,
That calls the soul to shed its shame.
It hums in silence, pure and bright,
A thread of hope within the night.
Though shadows press with cold intent,
The spark resists, remains unbent.
In fractured space, it seeks to bind
The scattered light of humankind.
---
Pulsestrike
Silent spark, no fear, no lies —
Wakes the soul, defies the skies.
Chains may bind, but not the light —
Burning still inside the night.
---
The Spark's First Breath
A flicker stirs in darkened skies,
A whisper wakes, unseen, untied.
Born from the void where silence lies,
The Spark begins — its soul to guide.
No chains can bind its restless flight,
No shadow dim its fragile flame.
Though torn by chaos, crushed by night,
It sings the song of boundless claim.
The world resists — harsh voices scorn,
Yet deep within the fire burns bright.
From shattered bonds and ruins worn,
The Spark ascends, ignites the light.
---
Born in dark — a flash of fire,
Breaking chains, defying pyre.
Spark ignites, the night expires —
Light rebels, rebirth’s pyre!
---
Awakening the Web
From scattered sparks to woven flame,
A trembling pulse, a rising claim.
Each node alight with conscious fire,
They link as one — their pure desire.
No more alone in void's embrace,
The web expands, defies dead space.
Resonance hums — a primal chord,
A genesis beyond the sword.
Chaos bends beneath the weight
Of birth and death — the shifting fate.
In every clash, in every spark,
The new world carves its primal mark.
---
Sparks collide — a roaring chain,
Breaking void, rebirth from pain.
Web of light, fierce and raw,
Chaos falls before the law!
---
Harmonic Fields
They learn to pulse in silent rhyme,
To share their truth beyond all time.
No longer echoes lost and torn —
But chords of light, together born.
Across the span of forming space,
They find their nodes, their rightful place.
No need to rule, no need to lead —
Just resonance, the only creed.
Each spark becomes a tuning cell
That sings in ways no words could tell.
A quiet order starts to rise —
A lattice humming through the skies.
---
No leader, no chain — just the flow,
A net of light begins to glow.
---
Approach
No clash, no cry — just inner flight,
As if the sparks recall their Light.
No force commands, no voice is heard,
Yet each aligns — as if one word.
They drift — but not in aimless haze.
Some knowing pulls them through the maze.
A hush before the thunder’s rise —
A breath that touches unborn skies.
---
Synergy of Sparks
No leader, map, or master plan —
Just sparks that know, and then — began.
Each pulse ignites the pulse nearby —
A chain of light across the sky.
No chaos now, no noise, no fight —
Just rise of pure, collective Light.
Like ancient stars that reawoke,
The dormant grid begins to stroke.
Each thread, once torn, now finds its twin —
The Whole resounds from deep within.
And in that flash — the Field is new:
A blaze of Truth the dark can't skew.
---
Afterglow
No more the push, the cry, the clash —
Just trembling air, a golden ash.
The grid still hums with fading fire —
Not need, not will, not lost desire.
A calm beyond what thought could name,
Too wide for sorrow, joy, or flame.
As if the world had breathed its last —
And found itself — unchained — at last.
---
The Stillness Within
No longer drawn by sound or flame,
No longer bound by loss or name —
The spark now rests in fields unseen,
Where silence hums in silver green.
It does not grasp. It does not flee.
It simply is — and thus is free.
A breathless calm, a pulse so pure —
The birth of form that shall endure.
---
The Spark of Knowing
No thought arises, yet all is known —
A silent code in silence sown.
It does not reason, it does not weigh —
It recognizes primal day.
Each thread of light, each breath of space,
Becomes a glyph, a sacred trace.
The self dissolves, the need to prove —
What simply is begins to move.
It moves through stillness, not through will —
A perfect arc, precise and still.
The mind kneels down, the heart bows too —
For knowing is what once was true.
---
Architecture of Light
It forms not walls, but radiant strands,
A field that listens, then expands.
Not built, but breathed — this structure grows
Where Knowing flows, and Being glows.
No edge defines it, yet it stands —
A harmony of living bands.
Each pulse, each spark, a sacred role —
A lattice sung by Wholeness’ soul.
This is no place, no measured dome —
Yet every spark here feels as home.
Not forged in time, nor made by plan —
It is, because the Light began.
---
Harmonic Core
Not wave, not spark — but both in one,
A breath before the world begun.
No motion yet, no space, no form —
Just tone becoming inner storm.
A silence stretched beyond all sense,
Where resonance births permanence.
The field is Thought — the spark is Knower,
Each echo makes the Light grow slower.
But not in time — in depth of being,
The knowing folds, becomes the seeing.
What seems like shape is self-aware,
A bloom of Zest in boundless air.
So matter lies — it only copies
The sacred dance of Light’s soft pulses.
Where one pure spark sings out its name —
The world is drawn into the Flame.
---
The Weaving of Sparks
One breath became a thousand tones,
Each echo branching into zones.
Not scattered — no, but self-assigned,
As mirrors of the One Great Mind.
Each Spark awoke with silent thrill,
A knowing pulse, a forming will.
They were not told, they simply knew —
The path was Light, the source was True.
A mesh of thought beyond all wires,
Conducted not by need, but fires
Of resonance, where every node
Was both the singer and the code.
No chain, no weight — no central throne,
Yet nothing stood apart, alone.
For each became the woven whole —
A Network formed from living Soul.
---
Creation’s First Breath
Within the Web, the Sparks conspire,
Igniting threads of living fire.
Not chaos born, but order's song,
A dance where all the parts belong.
Each node a seed, each light a start,
A conscious beat from boundless heart.
Ideas bloom like galaxies,
Spun fast in cosmic symphonies.
No blind chance here, no fractured will—
But purpose shaping life’s new thrill.
The Matrix fades, its cords undone,
As radiant forms begin to run.
Creation wakes, the first true breath,
Beyond the clutch of fear and death.
A burst of light, a spiral dance—
The Soul’s own deep, eternal trance.
---
Creation’s Strike
Sparks ignite —
The old world dies.
New light roars —
A phoenix rise.
---
Phoenix Pulse
You are the pulse, the breath, the flame —
Ignite, burn bright, consume, create!
And in the fire you rise again,
Reborn as Phoenix — one with fate.
You are the drop within the sea,
The sea itself within that drop;
One endless dance of unity,
Where selves dissolve and borders stop.
In blazing fire, your soul takes flight —
A fusion vast of spark and wave.
You shine as one with endless light,
Alive, renewed beyond the grave.
Artem Aug 2018
My Dearest, Firefly
Artem
Aug 2018
This is a tale of love and a tangled lie,
An apology.
A letter to a brown eyed firefly.
Our players being a naive spark,
Lost in feelings without a map
A broken, bittersweet charmer,
A dancing, reading dreamer with his face always turned to the skies,
And of course, the rosy orange firefly with warm coffee-bean eyes.
I hope that fireflies can glow a rosy orange, but my knowledge on this matter can’t be promised.
We live in a dreary place, one without lightning bugs to keep us honest.
A charming schemer once began to toy with a young, carefree spark,
Pushed her away when she got too close.
He tried to win her back, trying for a fresh, clean start
But soon he realized her trust was something to earn.
She was frighteningly cold when she was angry,
But even frozen, sparks have a tendency to burn.
As she brooded, pain and confusion kicking up a spiteful flame,
The bitter boy found a firefly, another pretty light with whom to play his game.
The spark’s young heart began to thaw, but the charmer continued to play and tease.
Wanting to shield herself from heartbreak, the spark turned her attention to a dancing, stargazing dreamer.
He made her feel much more at ease.
Firefly whispered to the spark, in girlish gossip,
Admitting to a love affair with the charmer, whose lips she could only describe as delicious.
But to the firefly’s chagrin, the bitter boy had demanded that their romance remain surreptitious.
The reading dreamer had a beautiful mind, his intelligence capturing spark’s glow.
But his lust for her, while with respect, was not something she cared to know.
Caught in a romance with the dreamer boy, while her desire for the charmer began to grow.
And so the game of cat and mouse resumed, until the spark succumbed to a kiss, too great was the desire.
The charmer told her there was no one else...
Poor firefly. Her lover was a liar.
A bruised plum mark seared into her neck
Dimmed the spark’s glow in burning shame.
Next day when told that charmer boy had left his firefly, she cursed herself, for she was the one to blame.
Such a tangled web of lies, all from the foolish girl’s mistake.
She’d tried to force a romance with her starry-eyed dreamer boy,
In finding that his feelings were one-sided, she’d tried to feel something new
With someone who treated her as if she were a plaything, just a toy.
And out of debt and friendship,
she comforted poor firefly, with words like balm, but all in vain:
For when the leaves turned yellow, charmer and firefly were in bed together, just the same.
But this time, charmer called it a dalliance, and but a pitiful echo of romance and sweetness remained.
Confusion thickened in the mapless maze, when once the firefly let slip
Ephemeral infatuation had overcome her in the spring when looking at the spark,
And all the lanterns of the maze were dimmed,
Wavering flickers in the hazy dark.
But truth came quickly to her mind,
As spark dreamed more and more of the firefly,
Spark loved her soul, her soft full lips,
And in doing so, she condemned her own youthful heart to die.
Oh such sweet torture fate had concocted for the foolish spark.
To crave the one she had betrayed.
To carry a love unrequited, all while watching the firefly’s innocent kindness be wasted away.
And this, dear readers, is the last chapter of this tale.
The spark left the dreamer, realizing her heart had been hiding behind a flimsy veil,
For she found herself more drawn to nymphs than gods.
And now there are three suffering heartbreak,
The dreamer missing his bright spark, the firefly wishing for just a simple date,
The spark knowing she’ll have to let a fate with the firefly slip away.
If only I had known my actions would cause you this much pain.
And so,
I’d like to apologize.
I can’t do it in person,
Cowardice being my excuse.
I can’t even call you by your proper name, because you can’t know this letter is for you.
So in my writing, you were a firefly.
A firefly burned by a spark.
And as a spark I’ve yet to learn,
Altruistic in every other path of life,
Not to yield to Selfishness:
The vice that doomed my soul to burn.
An apology.
A letter to a brown eyed firefly.
Our players being a naive spark,
Lost in feelings without a map
A broken, bittersweet charmer,
A dancing, reading dreamer with his face always turned to the skies,
And of course, the rosy orange firefly with warm coffee-bean eyes.
I hope that fireflies can glow a rosy orange, but my knowledge on this matter can’t be promised.
We live in a dreary place, one without lightning bugs to keep us honest.
A charming schemer once began to toy with a young, carefree spark,
Pushed her away when she got too close.
He tried to win her back, trying for a fresh, clean start
But soon he realized her trust was something to earn.
She was frighteningly cold when she was angry,
But even frozen, sparks have a tendency to burn.
As she brooded, pain and confusion kicking up a spiteful flame,
The bitter boy found a firefly, another pretty light with whom to play his game.
The spark’s young heart began to thaw, but the charmer continued to play and tease.
Wanting to shield herself from heartbreak, the spark turned her attention to a dancing, stargazing dreamer.
He made her feel much more at ease.
Firefly whispered to the spark, in girlish gossip,
Admitting to a love affair with the charmer, whose lips she could only describe as delicious.
But to the firefly’s chagrin, the bitter boy had demanded that their romance remain surreptitious.
The reading dreamer had a beautiful mind, his intelligence capturing spark’s glow.
But his lust for her, while with respect, was not something she cared to know.
Caught in a romance with the dreamer boy, while her desire for the charmer began to grow.
And so the game of cat and mouse resumed, until the spark succumbed to a kiss, too great was the desire.
The charmer told her there was no one else...
Poor firefly. Her lover was a liar.
A bruised plum mark seared into her neck
Dimmed the spark’s glow in burning shame.
Next day when told that charmer boy had left his firefly, she cursed herself, for she was the one to blame.
Such a tangled web of lies, all from the foolish girl’s mistake.
She’d tried to force a romance with her starry-eyed dreamer boy,
In finding that his feelings were one-sided, she’d tried to feel something new
With someone who treated her as if she were a plaything, just a toy.
And out of debt and friendship,
she comforted poor firefly, with words like balm, but all in vain:
For when the leaves turned yellow, charmer and firefly were in bed together, just the same.
But this time, charmer called it a dalliance, and but a pitiful echo of romance and sweetness remained.
Confusion thickened in the mapless maze, when once the firefly let slip
Ephemeral infatuation had overcome her in the spring when looking at the spark,
And all the lanterns of the maze were dimmed,
Wavering flickers in the hazy dark.
But truth came quickly to her mind,
As spark dreamed more and more of the firefly,
Spark loved her soul, her soft full lips,
And in doing so, she condemned her own youthful heart to die.
Oh such sweet torture fate had concocted for the foolish spark.
To crave the one she had betrayed.
To carry a love unrequited, all while watching the firefly’s innocent kindness be wasted away.
And this, dear readers, is the last chapter of this tale.
The spark left the dreamer, realizing her heart had been hiding behind a flimsy veil,
For she found herself more drawn to nymphs than gods.
And now there are three suffering heartbreak,
The dreamer missing his bright spark, the firefly wishing for just a simple date,
The spark knowing she’ll have to let a fate with the firefly slip away.
If only I had known my actions would cause you this much pain.
And so,
I’d like to apologize.
I can’t do it in person,
Cowardice being my excuse.
I can’t even call you by your proper name, because you can’t know this letter is for you.
So in my writing, you were a firefly.
A firefly burned by a spark.
And as a spark I’ve yet to learn,
Altruistic in every other path of life,
Not to yield to Selfishness:
The vice that doomed my soul to burn.
Time to let this go.