You're sharp edges
And I am whole
No more.


--Watercolour

You're a million separate puzzle pieces.
Each a little different.
Some are a little plain.
Some are exceedingly detailed.
Some have sharp edges.
And some are softly curved.
But all together,
I know,
it's an extraordinary,
beautiful,
and priceless
picture.
Worth an entire life time,
solving.
Actually...possibly even longer.

I have always hoped that you wouldnt get close enough
To catch the sharp ends of my personality
But with each slice to your ego
And every tear to your flesh
You seemed to tear me too
And when we got close enough
To inspect each others wounds
I looked into your eyes and saw my whole life flash
And I retracted my claws and hugged you tight
I never wanna let go

snow was brittle, i found
fresh white paper
crinkling under

snow was fragile, i learned
like shredded glass
but softer

like all my edges
as they really are
not how
i see them

My edges got snatched
And they never came back
While I was getting those tracks
They got detached

There's this empty space
At the side of my face
I feel ashamed
They were even tamed

Sick of wearing headbands
Just to cover those strands
Hoping they'll return
I'm getting so concerned

Everyday I get fried
I want to hide
They say my hairline
Looks like frankenstein

I go home crying
I keep on trying
To grow them out
Without a doubt

Next thing you know
They start to grow
I then show them off
And they start to cough

I gently place the shards of glass back into
The frame
And ignore the way their jagged edges cut
My hands.

You thought it'd be so easy to love a girl made of paper—
Crumple her mind in your fist, leave your mark on her vacant skin.
You were threatened by her lightness, by the staunch white;
Told yourself she'd be better for the splotch of color, even thank you one day.
Her edges would be thin, barely breaking skin if she cut you back—a quick sting and it's over,
no lasting scars.
Little did you know ink flows through her veins—
Miles and miles of words sharper than your scissors raging through arteries,
Pounding in her ears, crashing like waves against her teeth.
You thought it'd be so easy to burn a girl made of paper—
You tore her open only to drown.

Through the darkness I part the Veil,
And walk the hidden paths,
In the brightness beyond the pale,
I see what none have seen.
There's danger here in the world beyond,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.

And all my days it waits for me,
The calling in my blood,
And through the years I walk the paths,
That very few have seen,
The Veil grows thin as years go by,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.

Through the darkness I return again,
From those fair hidden paths,
And as I walk I learn to talk,
Like I once knew I could,
For few have been beyond the veil,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.

~In the Gleam Beyond the Gloom by Bethany "Lorekeeper" Davis, March 5, 2015


My attempt at translating it into Latin:

Velum parte post umbram,
Et ambulate per semitae occultae,
In splendóribus supra pallidus,
Non video quid viderim.
Non est hic mundus extra periculum,
In splendóribus post umbram.

Et omnibus diebus meis memet maneat
Vocatio in sanguine meo,
Et per annos ambulate semitae,
Valde pauci, quas vidi,
Velum crescit tenuis quod eunt anni,
In splendóribus post umbram.

Per tenebras revertentur
Ex his latet semitas occultae,
Et ego ambulo illis loquela,
Scientes semel ego potui,
Pauci abierunt trans velum,
In splendóribus post umbram.


And a translation of that Latin from an academic translation site:

And the hanging for the part after the shadow,
And walk by the ways of the hidden God,
In the brightness of beyond the pale,
I do not see what I saw,
He is not here the world is out of danger,
In the brightness after the shadow.

The call waits for me,
In my blood, and all my days,
And I will walk you through the years, the highways,
Very few men, that I have seen,
As the years go by the thin veil of the increases,
In the brightness after the shadow.

From these things it is hidden by the darkness,
They shall come again the paths of the hidden God,
And I, I walk the angels have speech,
Yet knowing that once I was able to,
They went to the other side of the veil of the few,
In the brightness after the shadow.