The Past, Like Razors

I got multiple signs yesterday pointing to the Beasts of Outer Darkness (a catch-all name for the Monsters beyond my Family) wanting to work with me on shadow work; the tarot reading I recently wrote about mentioned “moving on,” and they have a specific thing in mind that I need to work on moving on from.

I then had a night of very strange, and very terrifying, dreams.  They’re not going to pull any punches when it comes to this shadow work.


All this began so long ago,
the Desert hiding amulets
and such well-hidden scorn

that no one knew what I faced
until I was ripped away, forced back
to the very people who claimed to love
and despise me in equal measure; this was

building up over thousands of
years of carefully balancing
hatred and greed with so-called
Justice and an idea that an Empire
would never fall and be lost to time.

Time and progress marches on
the glittering lights of Darkness say
that there is beauty in releasing
the Past, to let it flow through the Veils
of Eternity, to let the Past float down to
the East, to be cataloged and laid to rest.

To truly, finally give up the Desert is to break
my Heart all over again; to allow the grief to flow
to feel the pain at losing so much in one snap
of the fingers of an angry god.  The Past will rise
up and confront me, but it is better not to be buried

between lies and falsehoods of Love.  There is no
forgiveness, and I understand that; to heal from this
means giving up all tentative hope of reuniting, to sheild
myself from that reality only adds to the cracks in my Heart.

To cling to the Past is swallowing down the pain,
and all my old wounds, sharp words like knives that
have nowhere to go except for making me bleed.

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Forgiveness (Devotional December)

Our Family should have never been torn apart,
and your Heart should have never been broken
by losing your Father to conspiracy and greed.

Even with claims of “destiny” and the “greater good,”
(which you saw right through, it was far too late to regret)
I wish I’d never heard you scream in rage at learning of
your Father’s deepest secrets being torn into the light.

There is no forgiveness for those
who handed me a cup of poison, and
made your eyes turn black with grief.

A Poem About Godphones

There are concepts,
flowing in an instant.

From–cookies, to wells,
to teeth, to you–to your terror,
and your falling, and your being
bound to follow the King

down whatever dark Roads
he may walk in search of
Salvation, Justice, and Honor,
but mostly in search of Love.

In a blink the knowledge has faded,
everything, and nothing has changed.