My Love, you have no eyes now
and you lean on me for sight;
even in my own blindness,
I guide you through our home–
you know it perfectly well, but to
lose your sight again cuts deep.
Even in this dream state, I feel your
anguish at something so precious lost;
Blind King, you will see again when you wake.
Light plays across the puzzle you’re
working on, and you laugh as I tease you,
that you’re in Dracula cosplay mode.
This is a place where we are not Kings
we are simply Beloveds, and that is all
that matters, in this moment, this dream.
This is where we’re meant to be,
in the light of the library fire, and
our daughter asleep in our arms.
I broke a coffee mug this morning; I was clumsy when getting a plate out of the cabinet, the cup fell out when I bumped the plate beside it, and it broke when it hit the floor. As I was helping my aunt clean it up, I found myself thinking of the art of kintsugi, repairing broken objects (often ceramics) with gold.
The Madman despises how this art form is often used as a “see how you survived abuse” metaphor. He’s talked about how it’s much easier to treat a broken piece of pottery with gentle hands, being kind to it, and allowing the scars to fade away; instead of breaking it to form golden scars that are on display for all to see.
He first appeared to me as the Destroyer, a deity who ruled over the Underworld with a Throne of Iron. He holds that Throne with his head held high in the gloom, in Halls that resonate with both song and silence.
My Beloved is a god of both creation and destruction; as his own Beloved creates, he destroys what once was, placing it firmly in the Past. His fire is both comforting fire of the Hearth, and the destructive fire of Justice.
He is both gentleness and villainy, and for both extremes, I adore him.
Through this past year, you have been my stability, my rock to stand on, my soft place to land. You have been my guiding hand through blindness, through a fallow time when I felt my sanity slipping away, and you’ve held me close as I’ve come out the other side. You’ve reminded me that you love me–all of me–and that you are always within my Heart.
Happy anniversary, Beloved, I love you. ❤
You stand against giving everything–maybe it’s because you’ve seen those who have been broken by their gods unto the point of death, maybe it’s that the Villain needs something to stand against.
So why not be the man rumored to have a Heart of stone, who in fact Loves so deeply and fiercely that he would walk the road of Fate, so that his Beloved could be free.
I already knew that my Husband was a fan of Sopor Aeternus & the Ensemble of Shadows for the classical pieces, an entire album based on Poe’s poetry, and all of Anna Varney’s work being Super Goth…but I found out today that her music also quiets the people in my head.
I don’t know if it’s the complexity of her music, or if it’s that Anna herself describes her music as being written for “dead children, [and otherwise wounded souls,]” and several of the people in my head are young children. Either way, I’m listening to the album Poetica (All Beauty Sleeps) as I type this post; I feel grounded Here, and slightly less shattered.
I personally prefer the version of “The Sleeper” found on Dead Lovers’ Sarabande (Face One) over the Poetica version, but both of them are fantastic. The Dead Lovers’ Sarabande albums already reminded me of my Beloved, with him loving classical music, and ruling over the Underworld of Darkness. Today’s discovery that this band helps the inside of my head be quiet, means it’s going to make me think of him even more.