#shinigami - Hello Poetry

I have returned to the shinigami realm for good, it seems, ascending the spires of my cathedrals where endings toll in minor keys. Below me, destinies queue like muted strings, awaiting the conductor’s cut— yet my baton trembles. I think of Gethsemane, the human who learned how to begin, the one I unmade into Songwept, and the silence she left echoes in 6/8 grief. I am a god of endings, and still, love unbalances my measure. I sit where wars concluded and dreams were buried with honor, where fate resolves cleanly—perfect cadences, no reprises. Finality was my scripture, teeth sunk deep into the last breath of things. I had no use for dawns. But humans taught me dissonance— how a heart can hold unresolved chords, how promises stretch time signatures beyond obedience. I am a god of endings, and still, love unbalances my measure. While I walked among mortals, my realm destabilized— worlds that should have collapsed held their breath, souls meant to fall through my hands lingered, hovering like feedback between movements. Planets refused their deaths. Fates missed their cue. I loved, and the cosmos hesitated— even entropy stalled, listening. I am a god of endings, and still, love unbalances my measure. I am done tampering with mortal lives now— their beginnings bleed endlessly into each other, a carousel of hope that never resolves. I crave the clean cut, the last note ringing true, yet memory betrays me. Human love clouds my celestial mind, stillness where there should be collapse, a vacancy where silence was ordained. Duty remains. But so does the ache. I am a god of endings, and still, love unbalances my measure.

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Jan 22

Jan 22, 2026 at 1:24 AM UTC

InkWept

Canticle of the Unresolved Downbeat

I have returned to the shinigami realm for good, it seems, ascending the spires of my cathedrals where endings toll in minor keys. Below me, destinies queue like muted strings, awaiting the conductor’s cut— yet my baton trembles. I think of Gethsemane, the human who learned how to begin, the one I unmade into Songwept, and the silence she left echoes in 6/8 grief. I am a god of endings, and still, love unbalances my measure. I sit where wars concluded and dreams were buried with honor, where fate resolves cleanly—perfect cadences, no reprises. Finality was my scripture, teeth sunk deep into the last breath of things. I had no use for dawns. But humans taught me dissonance— how a heart can hold unresolved chords, how promises stretch time signatures beyond obedience. I am a god of endings, and still, love unbalances my measure. While I walked among mortals, my realm destabilized— worlds that should have collapsed held their breath, souls meant to fall through my hands lingered, hovering like feedback between movements. Planets refused their deaths. Fates missed their cue. I loved, and the cosmos hesitated— even entropy stalled, listening. I am a god of endings, and still, love unbalances my measure. I am done tampering with mortal lives now— their beginnings bleed endlessly into each other, a carousel of hope that never resolves. I crave the clean cut, the last note ringing true, yet memory betrays me. Human love clouds my celestial mind, stillness where there should be collapse, a vacancy where silence was ordained. Duty remains. But so does the ache. I am a god of endings, and still, love unbalances my measure.

39

Man predicts Earthquakes, Cyclones, Hurricanes, Tsunamis But in trying to stop them He becomes the shinigami. Knowledge is fine Controlling is divine But Nature is still BEYOND man’s confines!

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Aug 16, 2024

Aug 16, 2024 at 12:28 AM UTC

ram-varma

Man's confines

Man predicts Earthquakes, Cyclones, Hurricanes, Tsunamis But in trying to stop them He becomes the shinigami. Knowledge is fine Controlling is divine But Nature is still BEYOND man’s confines!

9

There's a thing in the reflection Two beady eyes shoved deep into black sockets, stabbing through my temple There's a hunch in their back, but not by choice A collar wraps tightly around the throat, creating deep holes for inconsolable truths to slip out I woke to him hanging from the ceiling; ever constant blank expression plastered The wire is wrapped around my body We have never spoken a word to one another. forever inseparable A gentle kiss on the forehead, and suddenly the floor seems much less cold

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Feb 21, 2021

Feb 21, 2021 at 6:21 PM UTC

sharkteeth

Shinigami

There's a thing in the reflection Two beady eyes shoved deep into black sockets, stabbing through my temple There's a hunch in their back, but not by choice A collar wraps tightly around the throat, creating deep holes for inconsolable truths to slip out I woke to him hanging from the ceiling; ever constant blank expression plastered The wire is wrapped around my body We have never spoken a word to one another. forever inseparable A gentle kiss on the forehead, and suddenly the floor seems much less cold

15

The black waters lap gently At the shore of an obsidian beach. I stand with my feet Just submerged under the water, My nails shining with kuro polish. A shinigami waits beside me, Its hands clasped behind its back And its gaze fixed unblinkingly At the distant, curved horizon. Friends, enemies—I do not know yet: All I know so far Is that we’ve been standing here, together, For quite some time, And that every so often, One of us will reach out And clasp the other’s hand.

0

Jul 12, 2013

Jul 12, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC

kate-e-deter

Shinigami

The black waters lap gently At the shore of an obsidian beach. I stand with my feet Just submerged under the water, My nails shining with kuro polish. A shinigami waits beside me, Its hands clasped behind its back And its gaze fixed unblinkingly At the distant, curved horizon. Friends, enemies—I do not know yet: All I know so far Is that we’ve been standing here, together, For quite some time, And that every so often, One of us will reach out And clasp the other’s hand.

16