A History

I have dropped My so-called “father”s name like mud and bricks hurled through windows.

Whispered plans late at night, huddled around small fires; the fight against injustice raged on, and they had forgotten you.  Those who lived in palaces and had–no, forced–the worship of millions.

At least there in barren streets, in sun-burnt houses made of clay, you clung to Light, to Hope, to the balance that once was.  But that was years ago, the Two Lands have stagnated, become stuck in times long past, when blood ruled and sacrifice reigned.

The Lord of Dread indeed, you say to Me now, in a sunlit morning by the sea, and what were we to him?

To him you were to be broken, only pots to be smashed and put back together, and your terror was made greater by this foreign King who offered you your freedom.  Yet you took this King’s hand and fled in a stolen moment across the sea, across the stars, to a place you’d only heard rumors of, whispers passed from fire to fire.  From a spark of desperation to outright rebellion, you fled to the ships while the King’s Hound gave chase.

There was death, there was loss (there always is, in times like this) and a long, long journey in which you could reach up and place your hands near the stars themselves.

You brought your traditions, but not your gods.  Not those who had brought chaos and death, those who had abandoned you and ripped away your children to be servants of your so-called King.  Those who lived in “glory” and yet forgot their own people, who thought nothing of breaking, and even less of mending, of scars tainted in gold being the only reward, never mind that gold tarnishes and scars burn with the past.

You trust Me more now, having listened to this tale and not flinched, nor defended my “father” in any way.  I have removed the chaos and violence that My red hair screams of, and My Crown is made of flowers (like the ones your children wove into My hair at the Festival of Hearts) that it must be kept up and looked after.

Summer is here, in a matter of days it will descend upon Darkness.  Together we will light the sandstone streets you now call Home, and the sea will sing songs of stars and devotion.

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Mental Health, Summer Worries, and My Dying Godphone

Jake: What would you do if your godphone went entirely out?

Varian: You think it’s going to go that way?

Jake: I think it’s possible that it could.


That conversation with my fiance happened in April, and my godphone is continuing to die.  It’s not a steady decline, it’s like little bursts of communication that’s really faint even if I am using tarot or shufflenancy to back it up.  And when I do hear words I end up questioning everything I think I heard.

I’m in a weird place right now, emotionally and spiritually.  I’d describe it as ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ with an added comment of “I’m letting [my Otherworld Self] handle most of it.”  Especially with the one-year anniversary of traumatic astral events coming up, that’s been really difficult with memories and grief hitting me again.  I’m continuing to talk to my therapist about that, which is helping.

I’m also beginning to talk to my therapist about my fear of astral/spiritual stuff taking over my life.  I’m unsure if I explained it well, but it is a genuine fear of mine, that I won’t be able to relate to people Here (even at a surface level) because of too much of my life getting wrapped up in Stuff Over There (and some circles of astral/spirit work encourage this, so it doesn’t help.)  Jake is watching out for me in regards to my getting too wrapped up in Otherworld stuff (so are my other two Beloveds, but Jake is around more often) but even with him saying “no, you’re taking the evening to just relax and read a book,” I still worry that I’ll eventually be unable to relate to anyone Here.

The Dreamer is concerned about my mental health; with all the awful anniversaries coming up, my fear of getting too deeply involved in Otherworld stuff, and a variety of Kingship related things I have to do (which I’m letting [my Otherworld Self] handle.)  I can see why he’s so concerned, especially since he’s unsure how much the Madman will be around this Summer, and the Dreamer himself will be gone until New Years in Darkness, which is in early August.

He’s passed care of me over to Jake, and I keep remembering this dream, and the intensity in his voice when he asked Jake to promise that he’d watch out for me.  It’s…a strange feeling, sensing your Spouse and your fiance talking about what to do over Summer if your mental health totally falls apart.

I don’t have any elegant way to end this, but I find that this prayer that I wrote in March to be very fitting of my emotions surrounding this coming Summer.

Sacrifice of Hearts

You come from a land of sacrifice, where Hearts were only weighed or spit out or cast aside.  So no wonder you are trembling in fear, at the thought of your King leading a Festival of the things that were cast off, cast out, it is no wonder that you wish to close the shutters and flee deeper into your sandstone streets.

The old ways have changed, as sacrifice was left behind long ago.  Dancers will be led through the streets, laughing and trailing ribbons and masks.  Darkness will be alive with the sound of music, of voices raised in song and flashing lights.  White lanterns will soon be lit, and a bonfire of iridescent flame will burn in the center of the City of Lights.

Let Me lead you through this, with My Beloveds and My Consort at My side.  Let Me be your Light, leading you through the darkest time of the year.

The Time of Masks

I can sense it creeping closer
the time of Masks, the Hunt,
that desperate Ride to Autumn.

White lanterns are hung around the square,
the markets, the docks, the temples, that
iridescent flame that whispers there is hope.

I will light the sandstone streets;
oh Beasts of Outer Darkness
turn your eyes away from us.

Legacy

We are a family of scapegoats and would-be sacrifices,
a legacy that comes with a cost of damnation, and our rage
is great, and we mourn the family that could have been.

Fire has burned away the “greater good,” but still My son dreams
of his Father drowning, still the rage for those who have been broken
rises in Me, still the sorrow of betrayal and of ribbons burning lingers.

A new dawn has risen, yet again mourning hits Me–and you once said
I would die, in your cryptic fucking song–the only death to happen was
My grief–I have dyed My hair black, to erase you and your violence.

I walk through sandstone streets, King of those you would have broken;
I hear the laughter of children, talk with My Ally and Friend over coffee,
there is peace, Spring is here; your legacy of pain is being undone by Love.

A Lighter Kingship Poem

They say the gods change you
no one ever told me that
it would also change
how I read fantasy novels;

that the weight of a Crown
would leave me yelling
at authors who think that Kings
have the most glamorous Job
full of riches and adoration.

(The look I’m getting as I type this,
from the King of All Darkness who’s
currently buried in paperwork.)

(Processing Kingship Things)

This poem is to process all the Things that are going on Over There right now, especially in regards to my Kingship path.


My friend of silver feathers–what
do we do now, with all this–rushing
down upon our heads?  Free Will is a
Pillar of Darkness, and yet…I’m terrified
this is nothing more than Fate haunting Me.

I don’t even know what to say
to this, other than what the fuck.

It’s all lining up a little bit too
perfectly; you found your family and
I stumbled into the very Crown that
My “father” would have given Me
had he drowned Me in the River.

I’m laughing at the irony of this, but…
I’m worried it’s to hold back a scream.