Upon the gate
Words inscribed
"TRESPASSERS BEWARE"

Behind me mist recedes
Steep cliff revealed
At the brink I tense

My footsteps echo as
The gate looms larger
Damp black rocks under

Hits me the tortured's howls
As I step across the threshold
Legs steady, eyes set

Dense fog obscuring
Flame and body
The torch flickers

A winding path I follow
Patient and unwavering
With sword unsheathed

Cold wind announces my destination
Before me the chasm yawns
From my hands the flickering torch
Fell boucing down jagged rocks

I grasp the hilt of my sword
Light refracting off the blade
I hold it outward through the fog
Its light dimming by the minute
And await the terrors to come

Rumbling from the distance
The gate crashes down
Darkness falls upon this realm
The chilly wind picking up
All sounds coming to a halt
I close my eyes

Steps unsteady as I pick my way
Not knowing how many
Gasping I pull my feet back
As it touched empty space
Then tentatively I inch
Forward with a heavy breath
Until I stop at the very brink

For a minute staying still yet
With a lurch I slip into the chasm
Cloak billowing above me I
Flail around in a frenzy
I feel the cool hilt still and
Point the sword downwards
Taking a deep breath and
Bracing for the impact

i know it exists
in a realm beyond our time
and teaches us now

I feel
how you
are always
there, as
ripples
in rivers,
clouds
moving in
dreams
by the
window
as the
flight of
stars,
I am
here, in
your eyes
of the
lanterns
of heaven,
I dream
as a flower
dreams
under your
gaze, it
brings me
to tears,
I wish
for you
to know of
how the
rain of the
heart’s ocean
is the beautiful
depth of the
pain of love, so
rest upon
my wings,
we shall fly in
the sky, let us
soar beyond
this earthly
realm, with
feathers
of my
words
in little
poems
written
all for
you,
forever.

an unexpected visit from Venus
a line of beautiful women,
clad in the most gentle pink
like peonies in the springtime
ever-blooming in the heart

When entering the realm of another
Try to connect by being receptive
Relate to appropriate space
Approachable pathways through
principled heart centred objectives
Display the routes to sincerity by
observing a faithful open perspective

What if a ghost loves
me and using its powers
to keep boys away...

That would explain a
Lot. Does that sound childish? We're
seeped in illusion.

I spend all my school
days with the inhabitants
of a virtual realm.

the pillow hearts me redder than you do,
      crowns my dreams regal over murky lands,
from somber realms to the wake of blue;

into her clasp, my wingless wishes skew,
      as her cuddle bids two ears to my demands,
oh, the pillow hearts me redder than you do;

she seethes my mind, till dreams vapor thru’
          the sky, bodies pitching, wings for hands,
from somber realms to the wake of blue;

they gnaw unto the moon, shave its bare into
     mirrors, reflecting the truth, so I understand
that the pillow hearts me redder than you do;

in her cradle, dismal storms I can't subdue
      so she showers the sorrow out of my glands
from somber realms to the wake of blue;

and when my barrels empty, floods issue
   upon her, but she stems peace from her sands
for the pillow hearts me redder than you do,
from somber realms to the wake of blue.

The air,cold against my skin,
Teeth chittering, hair blowing in the wind.
My throat parched,
Heart stopped beating, I passed.

The other realm,
Warm like spring.
Heart throbbing,
I gulp in mouthfuls of sweet air.

This realm is heaven I guess,
Or just the waiting room to hell.

You inflicted pain,
Spoke silence,
Your words would,
Cower before.
You settled in me,
Hate,
For myself.
A thorn grew,
Out of the earth,
Where a rose,
Should've thrived.
You became,
The worst in me,
As I live,
Down this road.
You rest,
I bid you peace.
I carry on,
A mask of the other,
The soul,
Of those gone.
I grew thorns,
Another came,
And cherished me,
Gave me flesh,
And I see the next bloom.
But,
Like the rose,
It would not last,
As a thing of beauty,
Never does.
You see,
The thorn was prickled,
Kept hidden to not hurt,
But the rose,
That was the other part,
Became,
What the world would want.
The cherisher,
Would look in a year,
And the thorn would smile.
It would be one,
Of false hope,
Because,
The pain,
Of a broken heart,
Is a realm,
Entirely of its own.
Few would dive,
And see,
The thorn would survive...
But,
Just barely.