The Light We Cannot See (A Month for the Madman)

Your path is carved with crystals
reflecting all the light we cannot see

in Summer days when the King leaves
and the light vanishes from the sky
all is fallow, now is a time to rest.

In Autumn times when planting has begun
the King has returned, bringing the sun with him

every year his Star rises, and now all of Darkness
is beginning to feel change on the wind; King’s Reflection,
what is coming to pass, what beauty that we are blinded to?

What small sparks of stars are being formed even now,
what whispers from the Heavens reach your Heart?


To Be Mournful (A Month for the Madman)

Roses and graveyards and velvet capes,
you laugh and acknowledge that you’re a
walking cliche, but what better way to deal
with the dead, with those who have passed on?

You may as well have a sense of humor about it,
and being your Beloved’s Reflection isn’t the best
either, that long story that all the paranormal
romance novels I read seem to skip right over;

how long Eternity is, how being deeply bound
to one another to the point of trading Hearts
means that neither of you can ever die, means
you must follow one another to whatever

ending may await you.  The cheesy vampire novels
I read get so much wrong; you’re not a dark, brooding soul
caught in emotional torment, you’re the gentlest man I know.
I suppose caring for the past brings kindness out, my Beloved.

Crown of Stars

Change is coming, we all feel it, wrapped in
resplendent cosmic forces, and the possibility
of new life being brought into our world.
Will your siblings take your same path, so
near to our Hearts yet later so far away?
Only it is far too soon to wonder that, and the
Far Ones had no answer for us.  Still, you have
stepped forward into starlight, a Crown solemnly
taken when your Father passed his title of Prince
across generations, to you (if you so wished.)
Return to us at Winter’s Night, bearing the
storms of your Love, of snow, and starlight.

Screeching Pianos (A Month for the Madman)

The title of the poem was inspired by the terrible piano music I heard when I was put on hold with my pharmacy earlier today while trying to get my psych medication refilled.  Since mental health is one of my Beloved’s main domains, this poem is for him.

Screaming discordant against the ocean, a
concert of clanging, reminding me of what
remains lurking in my mind.  Not knowing
exactly what caused those visions is
extremely frustrating, but I have been
clear of nearly all hallucinations for a month.
Harmony is something I am still trying to create
in my life, but the ground beneath my feet is
now steadier.  I do not feel as fragmented, like I am
going to fly into a million shattered pieces at any
point in time.  I do not feel like a broken mirror waits
in my Heart, to sliver my mind and Love to pieces.
A new section of my life has begun, standing in the Light
now instead of the shadows of shattered sanity. I am moving
on from my past, stepping into the Light, into life Here,
slowly starting to rebuild a Tower that once shattered the stars.

Eyeless (A Month for the Madman)

Everlasting stone drapes these halls
you reign over the silence, Blind King.
Every whispered laugh the scrape of
living stone, hushed in the gloom.  These
endings you reign over, Guardian of the Past,
seeking stillness from within your halls, soiled
starlight falls into your Kingdom, to never rise again.

Red Roses and Wine (A Month for the Madman)

Really, when I call you a walking goth cliche,
every word there is meant with Love.  Overly
dramatic, and your favorite style of music is
relatively obscure doom metal, the more choirs and
orchestras the better.  Your wardrobe is black, with
some red velvet cloaks for when you feel like some
entertainment of the look on our Spouse’s face at
seeing you in color.  I first knew you as the Destroyer,
and even then you had a flair for the aesthetic that I
now know you so well by.  All of the vampire music and
doom metal in my library makes me think of you now,
winding pathways through cemeteries are as likely a place
I would find you as pouring over books in a library
near our Home.  As I said earlier, you’re dramatic, and
even with you taking aesthetic to new heights, I still adore you.

Obsidian Hallways (A Month for the Madman)

My Heart will guide me through obsidian hallways,
my Beloved is the King of Shattered Conscious, sacred
Villain, Scribe of the Far Ones, the High King’s Reflection.

Beneath these roles, he is the gentlest souls I know
giving the mad healing, leading the blind through
crystal gardens filled with light, bringing illumination

to those hallways in my Heart labeled Love, called
Hope Long Forgotten, called Light, which I had
once forgotten, his Lantern shines through my sorrow.