A place of torture within sulcusian corridors:
Labyrinthine the horror;
Dwelling of Agony.
Inflicting pain we call our introspection,
A thousand lashes wrought at our discretion.
Bearing guilt, as Atlas bears the universe
For my sins both imaginary and real.
I walk on shards of glass
Scattered ‘cross plains of ash
Towards my newfound home;
A towering mount of stone.
There’s something that lurks here beside me
Around me; behind me; inside:
A shapeless miasma, peripheral smoke
Revels like a jester in this sordid court
A prisoner in tow;
Cannot determine:
Who is bound? Who leads the rope?
Through barren vale we trudge
Reluctant, forward
To reach our fated climb;
Progress an onerous ascent.
Droplets of penance
Turn to streams from my bleeding hands.
Claw at the crevice,
Splinter the nails,
Slipping,
Plummeting, plummeting,
Plummeting, plummeting…
Escarpment of shame
The winds howling misery
Sisyphean refrain ad infinitum
Begin again
With broken body, heart, and mind
Desperation;
The life-well running dry
I dig in once again despite the protests
Resounding in the halls of my frail cortex
A prisoner in tow;
I must determine:
Who is bound? Who leads the rope?
With bloodied limbs we vault over jagged mantle;
Auric oasis gleams before my eyes.
Within the grove,
Abyssal form of black, glossy stone
Stands, calling;
Transfixed by its pull
I search in the mirror.
The spectre incarnates and stands in my stead.
Placing a palm upon the window of the void,
I burst into flames.
Profound is the blaze
That illuminates the truth of the soul.
Enlightenment thus:
To shine rays upon the self within the shadows.
Stripped from my coil, shapeless in form:
The spectre incarnate; perspective reborn.
I meld with the darkness, I meld with the glow:
Shatter the mirror, rain glass below.
Stripped from my coil, shapeless in form:
We burn down the forest so it may regrow.
I cremate my old self down to dust
And I scatter me to the wind.
As I descend
Retracing cliff and chasm
I recognize
My purpose in this cycle
Return to the expanse;
The harrowing origin.
For every error made,
Another trial that lies ahead.
I’m one amongst the dust
I’m one amongst the skies
The future self must guide the old
Towards their betterment
Circle the forlorn, circle the self,
Circle the reasons we circle this Hell.
Banished to judgment, banished to pain:
A taste of the suffering we sowed for our gain.
Shed the self-loathing, shed the dismay
Shedding off what led us astray.
But, recall, the fact
We are but humans that spite our best intent,
We walk on shards of glass
Scattered across the plains of ash
Towards our newfound home;
To find transcendence in the grove.
The burden that we bear:
To embrace the ill within us all.
Through honesty for our mistakes
Can we learn not to fall.
