Flee from me, oldest foe of mine,
Mark her departure true and bright;
End this resounding burthensome time
That in sorrow's darkest blight,
Doth wrest my sanity hollow, still.
Flee from thought; flee at will.
Flee from me, true companion of mine,
With conceited eyes of lustre bright:
Purloin my dying heart one final time
That in a passing moment's delight,
Doth cease its throbbing, still.
Freed from thought; freed at will.
A figure, there, stood - standing, waiting by an open door,
It heaves and breathes with woes, as if in beckon for no more.
With desperate hands clambering, searching for respite,
The walls beside him climbed, though stand relentless in their height.
Chestnut eyes rusted with greys; long, now, are his days,
A flow to mirror his crown of hair, yet splintering in decay,
Olive skin with vigour, adorning, reforming to a husk,
The birthing of his dawn has now wilted into dusk.
A child of mist and ashen-grey cloud bore against his breast,
With his mind to infest, his own heart he came to detest,
Till it came blackened and charred, marred to disrep
Won't you remember the calling of Their bells?
The infinite allure of their resonance stricken
And step backward into darkness unfurling,
The ever reaching, ashen-grey clouds --
Back into your sweet sanctity
wherein shadows, my arms reside open
To embrace you as gently you so drift:
My once enduring, autumnal leaf,
Now sapped of warmth by my winters wrought,
So frail, so cold --
Falling ever from my reach
To heights my arms scream to grasp.
I bide my days in a prison of madness,
Amazed by taunting memories quaint and cruel
And cover with cracked hands
The flickering ember, fated to fade:
The remnant spark of our love.
I cover it with my be
Her jewels of onyx glint diadem my throne in her eyes yet beheld;
Her opulent stars to which even tree and stone far below bend before.
I stay to mineself in fleeting shadows neath the solace of her own,
Though durstn't forgo the unmarred dream of her tender wings above.
Claimed at thought not yet misgiven and of own heart now purloined,
From deep within my breast, a most passionate ember I wrest,
And from beneath the passing skies overhead cry out my lay to thee:
"Dear 'Gale, dear 'Gale - your song consumes me so!
Dancing o'er all, with such elegance I cannot neglect,
Nor remove thought from the keepsake of my stilled eyes!
From your sweete
Prologue: Premonitions of Darkness by Taelra, literature
Literature
Prologue: Premonitions of Darkness
The dreary nights, filled with the treacherous terrors of his own mind’s stalking inhabitants looming at every turn, were now frequent recurrences for Garrick: no droplet of rain now fell with such respite as once they did; no one tree appeared green and flourishing as once they were; no heart-warming breeze of the Earth’s soft breaths now offered its comforting pillows of fortitude. Instead, the rains fell like a barrage of unavoidable daggers, laced with Death’s own spiteful bite, which anchored themselves deeply within flesh upon their eager contact and, with each of their consecutive kin to come, drove themselves in fart
Come; journey through this mournful shoal,
Where life is void and light has faded,
And submit to Winter's shadows overcasting,
As the ebbing tide of seeping frost claims you,
Just as it has, I.
Fall; knee weak, to the deceiving depths,
Sinking thousand a fathom ever farther with me.
Sadistic spectres pull at my motionless leg -
A chain by which to sink me to my Lord's side,
To where you cannot find.
By all thought misguided, absent your touch,
I drown in the sadness of your empty pools;
Upon their inverted faces you gaze and scry fate,
And witness the faintest glimmer of my heart,
Splinters far sown.
Cast far from the beckoning whim of Daw
He was her darkness; the corruption of the pure,
The spreading doubt that flung its shadows far,
Choking the mountains in their death-hazed wake,
And swallowing the skies within wrathful plumes.
The Sun struggled to keep its watchful eye gazing,
As his cruel reign of terror beckoned only the dark,
And with a mighty roar, he extinguished its rays,
Returning it, prematurely, into temporal slumber.
She was his solace; the sanctifier of the damned,
The evanescent respite yet amidst the unconsecrated,
Blessing the dark soils in light of her splendour,
And beckoning love's return from their volatile soils.
The Spectre cowers, subdued by her shimme
He, Breaker of Dawn, and the Caster of Shadows;
whose slumbering soul sings its final resonance -
a melody of unity from within chaos was forged,
Lays dreary waste where its reaches merely touch
Channelling through the unified elements of all,
Leaving mosaic carvings for the Dreamer to weave.
The Dreamer shudders in her bedding opulence,
White, hanging silks laced with golden strings;
Mere reflections of the boundless light within,
The ephemeral lands of her tormented creatures.
They live in light, though have yet to feel it,
And seek solace in the shadows of all her doubt.
Pale, undisturbed beauty, in her sleeping lulled,
Envelo
Flee from me, oldest foe of mine,
Mark her departure true and bright;
End this resounding burthensome time
That in sorrow's darkest blight,
Doth wrest my sanity hollow, still.
Flee from thought; flee at will.
Flee from me, true companion of mine,
With conceited eyes of lustre bright:
Purloin my dying heart one final time
That in a passing moment's delight,
Doth cease its throbbing, still.
Freed from thought; freed at will.
A figure, there, stood - standing, waiting by an open door,
It heaves and breathes with woes, as if in beckon for no more.
With desperate hands clambering, searching for respite,
The walls beside him climbed, though stand relentless in their height.
Chestnut eyes rusted with greys; long, now, are his days,
A flow to mirror his crown of hair, yet splintering in decay,
Olive skin with vigour, adorning, reforming to a husk,
The birthing of his dawn has now wilted into dusk.
A child of mist and ashen-grey cloud bore against his breast,
With his mind to infest, his own heart he came to detest,
Till it came blackened and charred, marred to disrep
Won't you remember the calling of Their bells?
The infinite allure of their resonance stricken
And step backward into darkness unfurling,
The ever reaching, ashen-grey clouds --
Back into your sweet sanctity
wherein shadows, my arms reside open
To embrace you as gently you so drift:
My once enduring, autumnal leaf,
Now sapped of warmth by my winters wrought,
So frail, so cold --
Falling ever from my reach
To heights my arms scream to grasp.
I bide my days in a prison of madness,
Amazed by taunting memories quaint and cruel
And cover with cracked hands
The flickering ember, fated to fade:
The remnant spark of our love.
I cover it with my be
Her jewels of onyx glint diadem my throne in her eyes yet beheld;
Her opulent stars to which even tree and stone far below bend before.
I stay to mineself in fleeting shadows neath the solace of her own,
Though durstn't forgo the unmarred dream of her tender wings above.
Claimed at thought not yet misgiven and of own heart now purloined,
From deep within my breast, a most passionate ember I wrest,
And from beneath the passing skies overhead cry out my lay to thee:
"Dear 'Gale, dear 'Gale - your song consumes me so!
Dancing o'er all, with such elegance I cannot neglect,
Nor remove thought from the keepsake of my stilled eyes!
From your sweete
Prologue: Premonitions of Darkness by Taelra, literature
Literature
Prologue: Premonitions of Darkness
The dreary nights, filled with the treacherous terrors of his own mind’s stalking inhabitants looming at every turn, were now frequent recurrences for Garrick: no droplet of rain now fell with such respite as once they did; no one tree appeared green and flourishing as once they were; no heart-warming breeze of the Earth’s soft breaths now offered its comforting pillows of fortitude. Instead, the rains fell like a barrage of unavoidable daggers, laced with Death’s own spiteful bite, which anchored themselves deeply within flesh upon their eager contact and, with each of their consecutive kin to come, drove themselves in fart
Come; journey through this mournful shoal,
Where life is void and light has faded,
And submit to Winter's shadows overcasting,
As the ebbing tide of seeping frost claims you,
Just as it has, I.
Fall; knee weak, to the deceiving depths,
Sinking thousand a fathom ever farther with me.
Sadistic spectres pull at my motionless leg -
A chain by which to sink me to my Lord's side,
To where you cannot find.
By all thought misguided, absent your touch,
I drown in the sadness of your empty pools;
Upon their inverted faces you gaze and scry fate,
And witness the faintest glimmer of my heart,
Splinters far sown.
Cast far from the beckoning whim of Daw
He was her darkness; the corruption of the pure,
The spreading doubt that flung its shadows far,
Choking the mountains in their death-hazed wake,
And swallowing the skies within wrathful plumes.
The Sun struggled to keep its watchful eye gazing,
As his cruel reign of terror beckoned only the dark,
And with a mighty roar, he extinguished its rays,
Returning it, prematurely, into temporal slumber.
She was his solace; the sanctifier of the damned,
The evanescent respite yet amidst the unconsecrated,
Blessing the dark soils in light of her splendour,
And beckoning love's return from their volatile soils.
The Spectre cowers, subdued by her shimme
Flee from me, oldest foe of mine,
Mark her departure true and bright;
End this resounding burthensome time
That in sorrow's darkest blight,
Doth wrest my sanity hollow, still.
Flee from thought; flee at will.
Flee from me, true companion of mine,
With conceited eyes of lustre bright:
Purloin my dying heart one final time
That in a passing moment's delight,
Doth cease its throbbing, still.
Freed from thought; freed at will.
A figure, there, stood - standing, waiting by an open door,
It heaves and breathes with woes, as if in beckon for no more.
With desperate hands clambering, searching for respite,
The walls beside him climbed, though stand relentless in their height.
Chestnut eyes rusted with greys; long, now, are his days,
A flow to mirror his crown of hair, yet splintering in decay,
Olive skin with vigour, adorning, reforming to a husk,
The birthing of his dawn has now wilted into dusk.
A child of mist and ashen-grey cloud bore against his breast,
With his mind to infest, his own heart he came to detest,
Till it came blackened and charred, marred to disrep
Come; journey through this mournful shoal,
Where life is void and light has faded,
And submit to Winter's shadows overcasting,
As the ebbing tide of seeping frost claims you,
Just as it has, I.
Fall; knee weak, to the deceiving depths,
Sinking thousand a fathom ever farther with me.
Sadistic spectres pull at my motionless leg -
A chain by which to sink me to my Lord's side,
To where you cannot find.
By all thought misguided, absent your touch,
I drown in the sadness of your empty pools;
Upon their inverted faces you gaze and scry fate,
And witness the faintest glimmer of my heart,
Splinters far sown.
Cast far from the beckoning whim of Daw
He was her darkness; the corruption of the pure,
The spreading doubt that flung its shadows far,
Choking the mountains in their death-hazed wake,
And swallowing the skies within wrathful plumes.
The Sun struggled to keep its watchful eye gazing,
As his cruel reign of terror beckoned only the dark,
And with a mighty roar, he extinguished its rays,
Returning it, prematurely, into temporal slumber.
She was his solace; the sanctifier of the damned,
The evanescent respite yet amidst the unconsecrated,
Blessing the dark soils in light of her splendour,
And beckoning love's return from their volatile soils.
The Spectre cowers, subdued by her shimme
He, Breaker of Dawn, and the Caster of Shadows;
whose slumbering soul sings its final resonance -
a melody of unity from within chaos was forged,
Lays dreary waste where its reaches merely touch
Channelling through the unified elements of all,
Leaving mosaic carvings for the Dreamer to weave.
The Dreamer shudders in her bedding opulence,
White, hanging silks laced with golden strings;
Mere reflections of the boundless light within,
The ephemeral lands of her tormented creatures.
They live in light, though have yet to feel it,
And seek solace in the shadows of all her doubt.
Pale, undisturbed beauty, in her sleeping lulled,
Envelo
O, radiant star, who of great heavenly whim wast once wrought,
And doth beckoned unto me with thine soft flickering faintest;
Once pinned upon thine dark-veiled blanket of truths most sought,
Art now cast, alas, into shadows where all beauty layeth at rest.
O, faltering star, who resides far yonder and adrift from me,
Thine invigorating rays are farthest from my reaches yearning.
I implore: in chills, mine heart oft throbs - do thaw me free!
Pierce through me thorough; though with no taint, deceiving.
O, dying star, whose glimmer of vigour hath long now dispersed,
Emulsified in the unrelenting blackness of my ignorant disdain,
Where
This night, my lungs breathe no longer,
Drowned in your tears forged from my failure,
Each crystalline tear to add to your apathy,
But dry before they shatter upon my shoulder.
No scent of solace within your heart to be sought,
When dust becometh of that which I clasp tight,
Only to be carried adrift by melancholic gusts,
And scattered afar where to never I can reach.
My lips move in vain; their efforts do not pierce,
They dissipate into evanescent echoes,
Where then they herald my forthcoming demise,
The suffocating veil of relentless shadows.
Long starved I am of mournful respite,
Though through the storm, a glimmer shines,
An
Harken swiftly to the midnight cries - wallowed afar!
Hear to its calls - the nightingale's choked lament,
As it breathes and sighs its final song,
Just as I sigh mine.
O, tranquil sleep, come bless me!
Fly unto me with thine snow-white wings purest,
For I long to be touched by that without taint,
So I may bathe in respiteful tears to cleanse my heart,
As this darkness does the same.
O, tranquil sleep, come for me!
Be near me when my mind comes to fade;
When my streams of crimson tide cease to flow;
When the shadow cometh to freeze me still,
To lay me to rest in the bitter cold.
Unforgiving friend, I beseech thee - our moment is
Deep within my mind, I envision dreams of thee;
Your dismal spectres of darkest shadow wrought,
Wailing in their fallacies, no eyes with which to see;
Lidless, hollow sockets - swiftly, is slumber brought.
Lo! I feel their dread washing over me,
O, chill'd waves of apathy.
In darkness, chaos thrives where affection dies,
And conjures façades to conceal our faces marred,
Wherein no sound may escape; no screams nor cries,
And burn hearts' desires 'til they cometh charred.
Alas! It reacheth, with burnt flesh, unto me,
O, horrid vectors of putridity.
From daylight unto nightfall, the huntress calls,
And beckons to She who resid
A Eulogy to Thee: Of Darkness and of Beauty by Taelra, literature
Literature
A Eulogy to Thee: Of Darkness and of Beauty
If words had weight; that of which we speak,
Our remnant thoughts may run seamless,
Like the merciless blade that sails through flesh,
And echo within us - a harmonious resonance.
If your gaze had depth; that of which I perceive,
May I become lost and entranced,
To revel, instead, in timelessness,
Where only we shall lie awake.
If this kiss has fire; that in which we thrive,
Let it burn away our erratic minds,
And rush us both forth to bridge this void,
Where the hanging darkness may, at last, be slain.
Who, then, will bring the night,
And cloud our once ashen and empty eyes?
When, then, shall the ortus of frailty come benign,
Harken swiftly to the midnight cries - wallowed afar!
Hear to its calls - the nightingale's choked lament,
As it breathes and sighs its final song,
Just as I sigh mine.
O, tranquil sleep, come bless me!
Fly unto me with thine snow-white wings purest,
For I long to be touched by that without taint,
So I may bathe in respiteful tears to cleanse my heart,
As this darkness does the same.
O, tranquil sleep, come for me!
Be near me when my mind comes to fade;
When my streams of crimson tide cease to flow;
When the shadow cometh to freeze me still,
To lay me to rest in the bitter cold.
Unforgiving friend, I beseech thee - our moment is
Epilogue: A Disdainful Departure by Taelra, literature
Literature
Epilogue: A Disdainful Departure
As doth light's vigour fade, tarnished comes mine dreams,
Wherein once there you lay, though yet now ascend above,
To leave behind not your pain, but the pains we scream,
Through the night where I now dwell and shout my love.
Faintly do howl the winds of thine final breaths sweetest,
And meet with mine ears - Saddened melodies to herald end.
Softly, throbs my felled heart, though it does not protest,
And proceeds unto our danse macabre for our love's contend.
Name the day I shalt cease to live, and take all from me,
For oft I succumb to thy darkened grip, if only to die,
And creep slowly into sleep where I, too, shalt meet thee,
An
I've always taken comfort in that the boundless depths and density of written expression (especially that which is only ever imparted on a single occasion to those most precious), that is, the sea of one's own limitless pool of emotion, can be eternally and satisfactorily filled, with each droplet of whimsical reminiscence - either gleaming with the radiant beauty of a thousand condensed stars, whose shining doth pierce far into the subliminal reaches of consciousness wherein all memories of pain and solitude are rendered obsolete, or emanating with the viral and dark, evocative spread of blackened decay and malice wrought - to be drawn down