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    Hylas
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

I am Oblivion - 1. Poem

 

I used to think that sunbeams were beautiful,
The motes of dust dancing chaos in celebration
Of vanquishing the gloom with light.
And then I opened my eyes,
And saw only the arrogance of illumination,

And the frozen breath that curls through the shade,
Where whispers the most primeval of all my fears,
That mindless terror of utter dark,
But it is not that of my heart.
I had nothing to be afraid of, for the fear is theirs.

For they are puny, the light is mightier,
And they must perish.

I used to think that I belonged to the skies,
Where the sun sails mighty as the world turns,
A galleon on the oceans of air.
And then I reached out,
And found only the damp walls of these hidden caverns.

And though I long to flee this chthonic hell,
That freedom I had sought so fiercely,
Is the delusion of my dreams.
I had no wings to fly,
A maggot I had been, I am, and always will be.

For I am gravity, imploding forever,
And I must descend.

I used to see only the shimmer of beauty,
The mesmerizing spell of perfection,
And I the mirror adoring.
And then I peered within,
And felt only the paradox of self-revulsion.

And I turned my face inward in shame,
To gaze solely on my lovely mind.
For it, alone, is beautiful.
I have nothing more,
Inside me I had closed my eyes, and willed myself blind.

For I am ugly, oh so perfectly flawed,
And I am narcissus reversed.

I used to believe in justice and balance,
Of good and evil; that which sinks, lifts.
In equilibrium.we all hang.
And then I weighed myself,
And found my curses far outnumber my gifts.

And in the forges of gods they made me,
Of anvils of sorrow and hammers of anger,
I have been cast marred, tainted, damned.
And I am but lead,
Wanting beside the intricate works of gold and silver.

For I am worthless, the universe is a divine feast,
And I the smallest share.

I used to long for things far greater,
To be set beside the stars of heaven.
Distant shining spark, I'll orbit.
And then I saw the vacuum between,
And I lost my dreams as I recognized my final haven.

In that blackness I think of memory,
Of what I once was and wanted to be,
For I only am what I was,
And there is nothing else.
In this terrible silence, the void beckons so clearly.

For I am empty, I cannot be filled,
And my yearnings only echo.

I used to dream of worlds within me,
Where we were the weavers of our fates,
Our music entwined in harmony.
And then I awoke,
Opened my ears, and heard only songs of discord and hate.

And in the cacophony of this life,
I am but the faintest of sounds,
Singing alone of better things.
And no one ever listens,
And I learned to be mute, for none hears the voice their concert drowned.

For I am silence, I move not to the tides this music,
and my heart has gone still.

I used to believe I am a child of the day,
Those who keep in their innermost souls,
The bright fires of eternal hope.
And then I found despair,
And saw that in the lake of diamonds I was a lump of coal.

And I was but an avatar of oblivion.
Quietly creeping in the womb of twilight,
Desperately awaiting the flames of dawn.
And in that sunrise,
I shall be burned, my ashes blown away, and I shall die.

For I am shadow, the night is my mother,
And darkness is my soul.

I'm still in hiatus, heh, but this just poured out from me last night. It's a bit depressing, but so are most of my poems LOL as they are, to describe them best, simply products of harnessing my fears into art. Hope you liked it. :)
Copyright © 2011 Hylas; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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