The Monsters We See - 1. Poem

I walked through the valley beneath skies torn asunder,
Past the Attack of the Hellbenders, all fire and thunder.
Their breath reeked of judgment, their eyes full of war,
As they hissed ancient warnings on Waterwall’s shore.

The Wandering Kodama stepped onto my track,
Bowed its head low and said, “No turning back.
The Journey to Salvation cuts deeper than bone,
And the path that you take, you must walk it alone.”

From the shadows came two with one soul split in skins,
The Dark and Mystical Twins, bound by their sins.
They spoke of a curse with a cost overdue,
“The Bond Between Us has been broken in two.”

Then came chaos and glitter in a feverish shout,
Sparklehoof and the Great Fluffing prancing on out.
They spoke of True Treasure that hides in despair,
Then vanished like smoke in the thick evening air.

Farley & Wolf came with hearts full of ash,
Two souls bound by silence and bitter backlash.
They spoke of old sins and the cost of lost trust,
And the curse of Eternal Love buried deep under dust.

Then stumbled out Cow-man, with sorrowful snout,
His half-steak expression all twisted with doubt.
He cried for Lovesquatch: A Culinary Cryptid Romcom,
A dinner of hearts that he’d long since forgone.

I caught a lingering scent, half poison, half bloom,
Persistent Pheromones had thickened the gloom.
It burned like forgiveness, like lips, like regret,
The kind of perfume you try to forget.

A roadside dive burned with neon and sin,
Where The Funky Chicken was dancing again.
Feathers askew and bourbon on breath,
He clucked out a hymn to forgiveness and death.

The mirror behind him confessed what nobody could,
Etched with the words, “Only a Monster Would…”
I caught my own eyes as I started to see,
The monsters I’m chasing are reflections of me.

“I Am a Creature,” I said to the night,
No longer pretending that wrong could be right.
A soul shaped by loss and the courage to care,
In Otter Words, I wasn't too broken inside to repair.

Laughter erupted, shrill, sudden, and free,
As in twirled the sprites named Zipi and Skee.
They juggled my guilt and rewrote my name,
Then vanished in glitter as quick as they came.

But left in their place under darkness of night
Sparx for Nyx, with burning bright light.
It hummed with a dream that refused to abate.
Like ghosts from The Summer of 1968.

The fairies came quiet, like dust in midair,
Took hold of the dream and slipped out of there.
Away with the Fairies, the dream drifted like breath,
And nothing remained but the hush of its death.

The road curled in twilight, The Car Ride Home near,
Where whispers of memory rang close in my ear.
Each creature behind me, each lesson, each scar,
Reflected like starlight on the hood of my car.

The headlights grew dim as the forest revived,
Calling me onward to a Deeper Dive.
Not into water, but truth’s murky stream,
Where monsters and men share the same waking dream.