No great story ever started with darkness?
Do you not know the greatest story ever told started with darkness?


Once upon a time,
Darkness plagued the land—
A great, powerful, grave darkness.
Darker than anything, man knows.
And how could he,
For man never lived in that darkness;
It was before time itself,
For there was no sun,
There was no moon,
And no stars, or plants.
There was only separation
Of the darkness and the Light.
And great was their separation,
As great chasms divide us from one another
So there was between the darkness and the Light,
But at this time darkness was known by a different name,
For it was not but the absence of light
But the absence of all that is good and holy.
It was called chaos,
For apart from the Light,
No good could be found.
And so it was,
And it was good.

Until the angels fell with thunderous rejection
Cast down from the Light,
For their hearts were filled with chaos
And hardened to fit their form.
So their hearts were set against the nature of the Light;
Their chaos was filled with murderous intent,
Hatred of their faithful kin,
And displeasure in the good nature of the Light.
And he who led them had great envy,
Desiring that the light would be his.
Plotting for glory and power
To be placed in his unfit fist,
For once he carried the Light true and pure,
But now his chaos made him unfit,
For it would disgrace the Light
And inflict wrath upon him.
For no chaos could touch the Light
Without severance of chaos,
And bound to body and mind was their chaos.
So the prince of chaos plotted for his own glory
Yet brought wrath upon him and his followers,
Mistaking what he once held to be his.

And it is this darkness that blinds us so.
Making us selfish,
Mistaking what we held, to be our own bit of light,
For only what is holy may hold light.
We, man, are nothing more than the spawn of the Light.
Who, like the accusor and his kin, chose chaos
So that we may do anything our heart desires.
And the Light, being gracious and true
Did not sever us from the light
But granted us audience through the Sacrifice
That we may reflect the Light
As we did on the day of our birth.

A rose who rose above the rest
Not proud, nor made to detest
High in the sky, she goes up
To the sun like a tulip or buttercup
And I, so distant, built to be resilient
Shrouded by those with murderous intent
I among the weeds, bound by my deeds
But a thought of her had me feel as freed
And then did wend to me a friend
The kind whom to my wounds did tend
Saying, those with thorns tend to mourn
She stands above it all, not fearing the norms

Cupid, you foulest of the archers
How you lodge your arrows deep
It is like a fire burning my heart
And I have no room to bleed
Apollo archer of poetry
Please pierce this dart in my chest
That I might write this poem in blood
And with fatal words, confess
She never loved me at all
And I have no reason to persist

An umbrella
Is the image that haunts my dreams
Just a fella
With a heart for coffee and creams
And just a girl
Quiet yet not weak, no, she’s meek
And a big world
Pouring raid down, from which I reek
Dreams, that is all
On which I think, how could I not
A hope so small
So mighty, so I cast my lot

Her eyes are so brown
They make the world drown
And the bit of blue
Pulls me deep into
you; if I knew who
You are, truly knew.
My joy would flow down
Making my heart bound

I thought for so long
You would have golden clouds
Shining over the blue skies
A queen beyond my worth
Who knew what I desired for
Was wheat fields over the earth

Obsidian woman,
She born of tempered glass,
And fine ash of great ejection.
What? I ask brought this upon you?
For you are as a blade
Yet are fragile as glass.
You boast a sun-kissed face as ash
And a kind forbearance as God.
A beauty, I declare,
A favored dark jewel
Yet this stone I will never hold.
Instead, you carved yourself a name
Jewel of safí̱neia,
Who hones my cornerstone.