don't lie to me.

I've heard those echoes
with every setting of the moon.
I've heard those whispers
with every sunrise
that's ever kissed
the parchment of my skin.

don't lie to me.

I woke up with the constellations,
remembered in the silken threads
of mother time's embrace.
I cleansed my eyes of the gossamers
when starlight was but a distant promise
of a reality yet to burn itself into existence.

don't lie to me.

I couldn't cut it as a weaver
of honey ladened words
heaped upon the nebulae,
derelict between the flowing stelar algae
and that roaring darkenss from which
all things come.

don't lie to me for I have bathed
in the cold light of eternity.

I was the crescent moon, a sliver in the night,
Yet in his gaze, I found a radiant light.
He saw me whole, beyond my fragmented part,
Love's alchemy, merging soul to heart.


In phases of shadows, incomplete and bare,
His eyes unveiled the beauty hidden there.
A crescent's curve, a tender, silver arc,
Yet in his vision, a masterpiece embarked.


His love, a symphony, the missing tune,
Transforming fragments into a whole monsoon.
I, the crescent moon, in his orbit swayed,
Completeness found in the love we portrayed.


Through waxing and waning, love remained,
A cosmic dance where wholeness was gained.
In his embrace, the crescent found its grace,
Love's magic turning fragments into an embrace.

this universe is a hologram
a computer game
program it with what it wants.

maybe mirrors
show us what we want and don't want to see
we heal and it reflects back to us differently.

Should Andromeda collapse / Hammering hydrogen entraps
Cresting waves of burnished light / Whitecaps in the endless night
Fly apart with gentle violence / Into eternity of silence

I've known your branches
they hit me with full force,
flowing in the wind
we twisted and locked
eyes, our leaves fell for one
another under the cosmic
path of the sun.

I want your mind... I lied
I really wanted
mind
body &
soul
but now, I don't know...

Perhaps my tree
will twist away with old age
or maybe we'll grow into one?
tree of life...
grow some mushrooms at our
roots and shoot for
the stars...

my stahr...

The Wyg burns the separate strands above a wooden pyre. The Wyg ushers in The Line.

Mixing new colours with a robotnik slave-hand, the Wyg manipulates The Line as no other in existence has done before or since, except for Exalted Steve Ditko, he who studied with Exalted Paul Rubens.

The Wyg pays credence to the commeroration of Mars, watching over its distant skies and hallowed sand dunes, which burn as only fires can; but those of us with eyes where eyes ought to be can only see the embers that scatter across the land, settling as the hallowed, red Mars-dust.

In communication with the Mars Moth-Man, on the nights where Earth-glow streaks across exalted Azuul, the Wyg scrapes Mars Moth-Man's moth wings for the powder of the scales and uses the powder for hallowed rites of manifestation. Only in the temples of Azuul can one conjure The Line, and many materials are required.

Like rats, lab confined
Like fish, water confined
Like blood, vessel confined
Like children, perception confined

There are stars we'll never reach,
Spaces we'll never meet
Forms we'll never greet
The Universe expands faster than our growth

Faster than light, perhaps -- we're in a cosmic cage.

when i think of it, i am all but nothing. a tiny speck of dust in this big world vying to survive. all of our deed, whether it be associated with feeling or emotions feel so incomplete. i wish our existence had more to it. when i look at the stars i feel that someone else might be looking at them too. i feel close to this person whom i do not even know. we are all mindless human beings, existential entities. maybe it is time we shed our skin thorough the leaks and cracks the universe has provided us. because we are so much more than just feelings, emotions and metaphors.