In a castle constructed of bones on a mountain high,
our hero sits alone on an ivory throne,
waiting for his current state of jejune to pass.
Whisperings of a voice, mellifluous air,
a singing so beautiful his heart skips a beat
at the gentle murmurings of such an ethereal voice.

And so he vacates his ivory throne
in search of this songbird that has invaded his walls,
the voice instils a certain hiraeth in his mind,
that village once so dear to him that now lies in ruins
due to his incandescent bursts of magical madness.

The owner of this voice, the eloquence, the elegance,
the image in his head that of a maiden on a rock,
as naked as the day she was born
and bathed in an iridescent sunrise.
A scintilla of a break in her voice
and she begins to sob at the meaning of her words.

He finds the source of this angelic sound,
a woebegone but comely creature supine on a table,
her eyes staring into heavenly mountains of madness.
She does not look to meet his wild-eyed gaze,
instead melting away until she is nothing at all,
leaving only dancing embers and phosphenes where she had lain.

He hears this burst of angelic quavers every day
but his madness permits no memory of each
to reside in his brain, comfortable and snug.
Instead, he suffers this delusion every morning,
when his head his quiet and thoughts are oblivion.

This siren swansong has no source in reality,
it is the last vestige of a mind damaged by time and solitude,
where the dawn chorus each morn’s twilight goes unheard,
but the ghostly choral vocalisations of a bitter memory
break his trance and he searches for the only sound not real.

you were never home to me
but my longing for that was so intense, it almost felt like you were
and then all at once i realized; you're my hiraeth
to be with you, inside our own four walls, was all i desired
but our house was destined to burn down

our love is a set of stars that make up a constellation
too complicated for even the most experienced astrologists to decipher
but you will continue to be my hiraeth
because the comfort i feel when im in your arms is incomparable
and although you cant be, you will always feel like home to me

i yearned for our love to be forever
but it was meant to desist
and then all at once i realized; it's our ephemeral
lamentably, it can't be our forever
for it was made of stars, and all stars have to die out eventually

but let's let it be ephemeral
because although the stars will dwindle away soon,
while they are still burning bright, they are beautiful,
and so are we

Then it hit me:
You're my hiraeth
You never held home in your heart
Only smelled like it when you held me in your arms
You've got wanderer written inside your bones
You could never be my home
I only thought you were
Because I wanted you to be
I wanted to belong with you, inside four walls, forever
But we were meant to explode and burn
There's no caution to our love
We can't be each other's security
Our love is made of fire and stars, combusting and combusting until there's nothing left behind
But I'll let you be my hiraeth
Because you hold adventure in your eyes
Begging me with just a look "one more ride?"
And I know you've got a string tied around my heart
As i run along side

Then it hit me:
You're my ephemeral
You were never meant to last
Only held too much wisdom in your past
You're going to die before you're old
For only so long can your veins pump gold
I only thought you would last
Because I wanted you to
I wanted you to be forever, to lay here forever with me, at home
But you were meant to burn out
Live fast, love hard, and die before your time
You can't be my forever
We are made of matches and candles and rushed kisses and goodbyes
But I'll let you be my ephemeral
Because you hold knowledge in your eyes
And when I beg you "just one last ride?"
You smile as if you know it will be
Because every moment is your last

months ago i left my home
because it was a tragedy.
the place where i never felt alone
starts to feel so crowded and heavy.

so i wrote my lines into your palm
and you took me everywhere you go.
walking to the middle of east & north,
unsure of where we would end up but we knew we currently stand
and that what truly matters, right?

there were times when i would miss my childhood bed
but you offered me your chest
and suddenly i refused to lay down somewhere other than you.
there were times when i would miss
them and their memories
but you make each moment of my past before you
unworthy of reminiscing for the lack of euphoria they hold.
and there would nights where i would miss being okay
because we are constantly moving
city to city in a world where i don't wanna stand in
but you, for just being you, make me glad to be alive.

and the stars hide at night
for they would always be set aside
because i will always favor your eyes.

but there were also nights
where you'd forget to hide the cracks of your sin.
and the light that escapes your broken lines
shines through the dark night, keeping me away from sleep.
there goes your light
shining from your interior
it was so bright as can be,
it blinded me from reality.
you were a hypnotic drug
that commands my feet to follow
you wherever you go.
i gave you my nights & rhymes
and all you gave me is toxic fumes.

you had me the moment your secondhand smoke entered my body
and you marked me the moment your
toxic-laced smoke clouded my air.

your heart and my heart
are now located at the ends of a line.
like intersecting lines,
we were once perfect at one point
but for some reason,
we had drifted from each other.
all i could stare it is the starry night
but i don't like stars,
i don't know where we are
and i don't know where to go
though, i'm glad as hell i wasn't where i used to be.
there are nights where you'll suddenly throw rocks at my window.
the moment you'll lay your head on my shoulders,
it will always feel like home.
you were home
and just like my previous one,
you are a tragedy.

The ether’d suggested,
          “Say something.”
                    I didn’t.

The photos bombarded,
          “Say something.”
                    And I didn’t once more.

His widow plead, cried,
          “Say something”
                    I couldn’t.

One daughter begged,
          “Remember?
                    And I couldn’t once more.

But I bought a cake,
           “Daddy?”
                    Lit the candles,
                              “Daddy?”
                 ­                       And he didn’t;
                                                  And he wouldn’t
                                       Answer,
Because I never did.

Sometimes I watch the others,
So comfortable in their skins
Of whatever form they've chosen,
Or miraculously been blessed with,
And remain a passive observer
Of the beauty before me.
I view their spirit animal forms,
Alongside the incarnations of gods,
and goddesses, and other holy beings,
Dance across their human flesh.

When viewed closely I can see
The smallest units of infinity
Struggling to expand, sometimes succeeding,
Other times dying and quickly vanishing,
To be suddenly replaced by elements
Of others, or the world around them.
They are cloaked in visions
My words can't comprehend,
Which I have heard some call yugen.

Other times I find myself
Wanting to join in with the excitement;
I flit between the disguises that
I have made for myself, in
An effort to seamlessly fit in
Unzipping one skin as discreetly as possible,
and hastily pulling on the next
As I rush from group to group,
Hoping nobody sees who lies within.

I have no concept of my own beauty.
Mirrors do nothing to help, being
designed to only reflect a physical presence.
I suppose that- to a piece of glass-
An eyebrow is just an eyebrow,
And lips are just lips.

If you could see beneath the reflections
Of your own selves I had tried to create,
I am afraid of what you might see
The bitterness that lies beneath.
My multiple façades sometimes breaks free,
And slowly breaks whoever is before me,
Causing mouths to form wide O's of horror,
Or else silences them completely.

This skin I inhabit is not my home-
I appreciate it's gloriousness and accept,
As I do in others, the meanest emotions it conceals,
And treat it as I would any other. I
Wish it no harm, and would be loath
To abandon it on some distant kerb
Like an unloved pet.

My Celtic forefathers had a word to describe this;
"Hiraeth"- a longing for a home that never was,
Or a place one can only recall in distant
Memories; unrecountable to those who
Never knew of its existence to begin with.

Maybe the skins I wear are part
Of my journey home; pupating like
A moth who longs to search for the light,
Yet lacking the wings to do so.
Perhaps they are only walls of my
Own devising, covering the window
To my own soul, that writhes inside
Like some contorted navel.

All I know is that the parts of you
I have stolen, or borrowed, or bought,
Or acquired through other means
Are the closest to home I have ever been,
Enabling me, in those brief moments,
To view the homes you keep within yourselves,
Until you reach out and touch me,
Causing me to run away, tail between legs,
Before my true self can be seen.

The texture of beautiful flowers oh so ethereal
The feel of a sudden zephyr hugging me, as I inhale the scents of nature
The fragrance of my surroundings oh so redolent
The litheness of my movements as I explore this breathtaking land

"This is it, this is my own paradise," I thought
As I imagined it with my eyes closed,
I unconsciously lifted my right hand, totally immersed in envisaging my own haven
Until I was hit by a sudden blow, a blow that firmly stated that I probably won't see it with my own eyes

This is the hiraeth of my mind, of my soul, of my heart
And this is the heartbreak that hurt me the most

Inaction in action
A most frightening thing

Eyes flash from green to brown
Was that a smile or one of your cute frowns?
I can’t tell up from down
In this vacant hole

I feel like I am supposed to remember

Impact has dried up
Like a drought that makes farmers
Wonder if their crop ever did flourish
Or if the dust simply snuck into their heads
With paintbrushes and vivid imaginations
Of what fresh picked berries once tasted like

I want to run
Faster than ever to where I once was
To where my emotions began
To when a kiss was still intoxicating
And you smiled at clasped hands

Mirrors in my mind turn
Reflections of you blur
Engraved lessons I’ve learned

Were you ever my home?
I trace the walls of your character
Each knot and groove familiar
Reflexive fingertips
Gliding over walls as they turn inside out

I forgot what all this was about

Do I long for a light that once shown
Or just another culpable excuse
To regain the throne
My wishful thinking kingdom
Though my senses are honed
To both authenticity and mirage
I fear I am equally prone

Even so.

If…

If you were ever
Or still are
And we cross paths again
Or maybe for the first time

Kiss me with your brown eyes
Or were they green?
And I will try my best to recognize
A love I fear I’ve never seen

But I can’t muster pursuit when consciousness is stolen by a dream

Inaction in action
Is a most frightening thing