In a great mansion, by a tranquil sea,
Were born two brothers, just minutes apart.
Fruits of all that was, and seeds of all to be,
The entire country gave the princes a place in its heart.

Abbot spoke first while Costello was the first to stand.
But Costello’s hand was always around his brother,
While Abbot’s silver tongue justified Costello’s mischief in the sand.
And all those who saw them exclaimed that their love was like no other.

So, the two grew with their only similarity being the bond with their land.
To the growth of the boys, the slowly rising waves stood testament.
For it observed how envy made Costello’s hand,
Push the favourite Abbot, and sow the beginnings of resentment.

Slowly, the sight of the inseparable brothers faded to a memory,
For long nurtured poisons now surged in their veins.
And one stormy night, both began to worry,
Of their own fate if the other reigns.

And when the old king did suddenly perish,
Chaos assumed kingship, for the two brothers declared war.
Not just over the land, but also the woman they both did cherish.
The earth rumbled in protest and the sky wept from afar.

And that night, the sea rose to meet her lover- the moon.
Failing to do so, she heaved and brought destruction,
Crushing the palace and the people, all too soon.
And the night saw the crumbling of walls and determination.

The brothers rushed outside, only to be devastated
For what worse fate can befall one,
Than to watch the only love of their life mutilated?

Both collapsed to their knees for they believed themselves undone.

And then, heart wrenching cries escaped through them together. Abbot spoke first while Costello was the first to stand.
And this time, each held the other’s hand.

Water had proved its power over blood,
For that day, emotions did flood.

That saline water had purged them of that poison,
And from the ashes of their past, the rise of phoenixes had begun.

Laughter in photographs,
Time in happiness,
Lifetimes in epitaphs,
And stories in a necklace.

The past in stony eyes,
The future in sharp lines,
The truth in all those lies,
And meaning in all those signs.

Home in the crumbling walls of a house,
Memories after colours fade,
Dreams in a fire someone tried to douse,
And tears in a mermaid.

Dormant and growing too,
A slowly stirring mass-
Only to break free and remind you,
That ice shatters palaces of glass.

A firefly among dancing shadows,
An owl in the carnival of lights.
Him in the labyrinth of her syllables,
And all those unstrung kites.

Hearts, when mirroring drops pellet,
Souls, when the world mirrors.
Selfs, among applauding masks,
Minds, with an overflowing purse.

Love, between the said and unsaid,
Grays, among the blacks and whites.
Friendships among caged affections,
Twilight, between days and nights.

Hurtling around in circles,
Life's obscured by a haze.
Lost in the search and searching for the lost,
We seek a route through this maze.

Born of dying flames and embers few,
He lived atop the mountain of light.
Conceived of inky swirls and midnight blue,                                                              
She dwelt in a dungeon out of sight.

The Daughter of the Dark was poetry and fire,
And the Son of Light was prose and rain.
Oblivious to a prophecy with consequences dire,
Both continued to peacefully reign.

The mountain of light was magnificent,
With a land of marble and crystal skies.
In woven sunlight his people resplendent,
Only knew of freedom with a few ties.

The dungeon floor was glass and ice,
And the roof all studded stars and swirling blues,
Was held up by pillars of ink and lies-
Around which danced her people in a riot of hues.

But she dreamt often of a brilliant white,
And he oft wondered where the light did stop.
So once, in pursuit of realms beyond their sight,
Both commanded their horses to gallop.

They collided on the sands on which roses bloomed -
At Twilight, where the horizon blurred.
And because in the face of unknown beauty we are doomed
To lose reason, their souls stirred.

He gifted her a brilliant orb to hang with her stars,
And she presented him blues with which to paint his skies.
She taught him that stories and dreams are not always a farce,
And he in return taught her that silence is most often wise.

But prophecies are the most dangerous when unknown.
For it had been decreed that although born at the same hour,
All their lives, to crossed paths they would be sworn,
Each struggling to attain the enigma of power.

Soon enough, his eyes lusted for the land of midnight,
While her heart desired nothing more than the sunlit land.
But to want more is never in the stead of what is your right,
And slowly, the colour faded from the roses in the sand.

The war did not last long, but their wounds did.
Both were forced surrender and then to retreat.
They swore to find where the other hid,
And quietly realised that never could they like before meet.

Even today, he races across the blue sky,
While she rages to the seas from her orb of light.
But do you see why the longest shadows at evening lie?
And will you recognise the scent of withered roses from the land of Twilight?

You now know why dawns and dusks pass in a whirl,
And how love and fairness is often lost to wars.
You must understand that life does not always come full circle,
For it’s a world of scattered arcs – some rainbows and others, scars.

The door doesn't open both ways,
My friend. All that enters, stays.
Pieces of you that you left behind,
And oh, dreams, fears and things of that kind.
Broken hearts and forgotten ambitions,
Covert desires and unheeded premonitions.
Conquered fears and those repressed
Memories, in oblivion dressed.
Fleeting moments and those sighs,
Bubbles of joy and such lies.
Loves with long forgotten names,
Jibes, scars, bruises and maims.
The door does not open both ways,
But when you close it, it stays.
Until of course, you decide,
That doors are not meant to hide.
Open that door and march inside,
And sweep all those stale hopes aside.
Dust those cobwebs of disappointments,
And those moth-eaten resentments.
Let the light in; did it ever help to be blind?
Dark corners aren't for your mind.
You're now closer to freedom than ever before,
And it has a lot to do with that broken door.

Black silk and stars
Scattered like dust:
Birthplace of our wars,
Greed, power, love and lust.

Revolutions erupt and die,
For new worlds to be born-
Of truths and a lie-
But each to a path forsworn.

Scorched skies rain ashes-
Prophecising phoenixes and flowers,
Incinerating past gashes,
And shrouding unprecedented hours.

All spinning toward nothingness,
Yet struggling to not.
Scrambling to escape oblivion's harness,
And the return to naught.