From the glass that is empty, overflows divine might.
In the chasm of silence, where new stars may ignite.
As the void holds a state of potential in every instance.
The emptiness is proof of an infinite existence.

Energetic quantum fields, they hold a nothing that is all,
With a pleromatic silence that is actually the call.
Entropy keeps all her secrets, only told in conscious wave.
Each new pattern is stitched from the very fabric of decay.

Potential, though unspoken, lives in every empty heart.
Divine purpose suspended between  light and the dark.
Space and time twist as futures, echoing their past.
Silence holds the truth beneath continuum, born to last.

Silent emptiness, potential for a  limitless creation.
Hearts beat sacred rhythms of quantum contemplation.
A paradox prevails as the chaos becomes the tamed.
Converging bursts of particles blend to a single wave.

The empty glass, a garden. Home of quantum fields to sprout.
In this parodoxic realm, where our dreams  are breaking out.
In the spaces between seconds, whole realities are grown.
Each moment is a leaf upon the tree of this unknown.

The psyche falls apart, but its progression will make whole.
Where the  absence turns into a dark salvation for the soul.
By the frequency of binaural pulses altered, I'm entranced.
I'm the infinite, just waiting, within momentary chance.

In the silence of the mind, creation calls without a sound.
We're adrift in nothingness, lost in what we haven't found.
Yet the glass that is empty holds a hope beyond profound,
In emptiness lives everything. The nothingness, unbound.

And in the space of emptiness, as pure as it is wide,
There's a  potential Divine, hidden deep in the sublime.
Both the broken and the whole, find a home to be embraced,
By the empty glass, to be transmogrified in conscious space.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦

There is a gnawing felling within.
I isolate myself because of it.

I shy away,
I look down and i stay quiet.

My conscious is my sword but the hands that wield it aren't mine.
I know very well why.

Give me my sword back!

And I shall put an end to these wretched demons.

Never again will I let anyone make me feel small,
And when I hit it, believe me I will break that wall.
Never again will I fall for any manipulation,
I will call anyone out in front of everyone without hesitation.

Never again will I let anyone make me feel inconsequential,
I am worthy of more as I am full of potential.
Never again will I allow myself to be used nor suffer abuse,
I am a bomb ready to explode, believe me don’t light the fuse.

Never again will I blindly believe, I now proceed with care,
I will not allow myself to be caught in lies that try to ensnare.
Never again will I give my trust easily, I will take it slow,
Actions speak louder than words, this I now know.

Never again will I be treated like sht or stabbed in the back,
You hit me, watch out not even google will find you when I give you a whack.
Never again will I let my mental illness nor trauma make me an easy prey, I am born anew,
No longer am I that naïve girl, I am now wiser & stronger, take me on…I fcking dare you.

In the hush of time, where shadows do align,  
Thy words resound, like a sacred sign.  

An eagle I stand, though wings yet unformed,  
In the winds of trial, my spirit is warmed.  

The acid of hardship, with fury doth bite,  
Yet in its cruel grasp, I find my might.  

My scars, like jewels, shall crown me with pride,  
For each one whispers of the battles I've defied.  

Behind veils of hatred, where cold winds do sweep,  
I forge a new tongue that the world cannot keep.  

A language of truth, where love's purest art,  
Speaks the deepest secrets of the undying heart.  

Though fate may seem barren, its hand cruel and still,  
I bend it to my will, and my soul shall fulfil.  

For destiny’s course is not set in the stone—  
I carve my own path, and I stand alone.  

O' voice of righteousness, whose fire doth burn,  
In thy light, I rise, in thy wisdom, I turn.  

I gaze in the mirror, and see with clear sight,  
A place of my making, where courage takes flight.

My strength is not borrowed—  
it was forged in silence,  
hammered by pain,  
and tempered in the fires of survival.  

It does not come from borrowed fabrics  
or shallow wells of comparison;  
it is carved from my marrow,  
stitched into my skin with my own hands.  
You cannot wield my wounds against me.  

I have held them like stones—  
felt their jagged edges,  
their weight pressing into my palms—  
and I have built something greater than suffering.  

Vulnerability is not weakness;  
it is the raw truth of my existence:  
the mirror I no longer fear,  
the voice that does not waver,  
the heartbeat steady beneath scrutiny.  

Speak of me if you must—  
but your words echo only within walls  
you have built to contain your own fears.  

They do not define me;  
they do not alter my course.  
Compare me if it soothes you.  
Measure my steps against your own.  

But know this:  
my journey is mine—  
unshaken by your judgment,  
untouched by your doubts.  

I walk with confidence—  
not from arrogance, but from knowing:  
I have faced myself in the darkest hours,  
and I did not flinch.