Cry of the Stars

Awake inside the realm of sleep,
with dread
I try to run from Fate,
to fly,
but wings are bound to earth
by mind's own fiction.

[written by me, Alix, and Emmie]

Silence
Breathless quiet
The stillness soothes the fear
A brief absence of distraction
At ease

The deception of reality,
a sea of doubt glossed over hesitation
I've slipped further into belief of my disbelief,
a numb and accepted sedation
Beguiled by my own thoughts, I thought.
A distant captivation
//
The disillusioned whisper,
bleary and suspicious
But there was no trouble,
no injury,
There was no story to tell
No truth afterall.

If you dream with open eyes,
reality begins to change:
at first, it's beautiful,
new colors glossing over the world--
but beware! Dreams can last too long,
and time escapes from your hands.

[A/N: This is my first attempt at a sijo.]

delirious dream          of diamond blood and
tiny still wind in a thousand sky whisper s
           and sea lather heave ing death.

I want to find that world
where ghosts stare back from windows
when trees are dark outside:
Who is that girl?
What is her name?
Is it the same
as mine?

This language textbook tells me:
sounds, reaching vocal cords
vibrate through them,
or not.
A whisper's sound, they say,
is voiceless.

I wonder how that can be true,
'cause when you whisper I love you
in quiet halls and corridors,
I always know the voice is yours.

Thoughts,
though easily contained,
are not confined
Provoked by action,
there is power to change
there is power to affect.

past the hazy dusk 
in a borrowed world of doubt, 
oceanic hope

I can feel
fall, settling in my bones.
suddenly
I'm aching to dance
the cold wind's waltz
tripping, skipping with the leaves
I'm longing to fly
the swallow's well-worn path
streaking over flaming trees
and sing
the cricket's last song
under the gentle rain.
At the end of the day,
the fading sunlight illuminates your face,
and here we find
fall, settling in our bones.

-del

Rough between
my fingers--

intended to
absorb, but
comforts me enough
to sleep.

-del

Why would I
give freely
where I have received none,
why be honest
when I have been deceived,
why uphold truth
where I have been slandered,
why care
when I have been ignored,
Why should I love
those who have not loved me?

Behind me is a crumbling world
so dark that I have lived in blindness
Around me, a multitude
of creatures so majestic, my heart thrills in awe
Before me is a light
so bright my dark-blind eyes cannot behold it.
From this throne, reams of glory
flow unceasingly, reflecting
onto these creatures
that sing like so many mirrors
Holy, Holy, Holy!
Herein lies the desire of my heart
for on the throne is seated
my awesome Lord, Creator, King
in whom is more than enough for
the satisfaction of my soul.

Then, the praises of the angels seem
so far away, as cries of mockery
rail against this same glorious One,
bloody as any burnt offering,
back torn apart like the rending of dove’s wings.
From this rugged tree, streams of mercy
flow unreservedly, washing me
clean.
Herein lies the fountain of my joys
for on the cross was sacrificed
my living Priest, Atonement, King
in whom is found, once for all
the salvation of my soul.

How can I aspire to be like Him,
so perfect, majestic, and good?
And yet this is my King’s command:
His people shall be holy, for He is holy
His people shall love, for He is the Lord.
So I will not linger at the altar
of myself, but imitate my Master
And I, though all the world should say
it makes no sense to them,
I shall love my neighbor
as myself.




-del

someone once said to me,
never mistake a shadow for a soul.
i said to him,
no one does--
we only
mistake souls for shadows.

almost there,
we run so hard the ground will break
still it's not enough.
where the stars die,
a faint light wanders, disappears
then returns:
do you follow it
or do i?
i am learning the rain
reminding me of people i once knew
people that were me
and you.
(are we still here?
this icy warmth is blinding me
i can't see you at all.)
i suppose we have a choice,
but i don't know
who lives or dies.

i am looking harder at the dark
i think there's more to see.

-del

Fingers poised above

Two things my heart and hands have held,
In stubborn shackles bound them fast:
Entranced, I fell beneath their spell
And thought my wonder unsurpassed.


The first was borne on voices fair
That sang of ancient, mystic lands
Of seas and home and starlit hair,
In words I could not understand
Its beauty stirred within my heart
A longing for a greater place
I felt it tore my soul apart
And led me on a hopeless chase
I dreamt of lovely, perfect worlds
And friends I could not hope to make
Full joy and bliss before me swirled,
So bright that I would weep to wake.


The second called me from the dark
And bade me open up my mind
It promised mirth, a wild spark,
And pleasure of a different kind
It pierced me, searched my secret thoughts
And found desires buried deep,
Convinced me this was what I sought--
Then woke the seedlings from their sleep.
I tended these until they grew,
Not knowing full what I had done.
Once chained and choked, I saw the truth,
But though I tried, I could not run.


A Man came by and looked at me
Said, “I’ve redeemed you from the grave.
For freedom I have set you free,
So live no longer like a slave!”


I saw then, what these truly are:
The one is but a guiding light
That points me to my Home afar;
The other lingers in the night
And seeks to hold me always there,
So why should I to either cling?
A sparrow rescued from the snare,
I’ll rise on stronger, newer wings.


Two things my heart and hands have held,
In stubborn shackles bound them fast:
Today I bid them both farewell
And sweep their ashes to the past.

I stand within a meadow wide
Its borders marked by barren trees
While on the wind white snowflakes glide
And drift like sad, unfinished dreams--
Now some fall to my fingertips
To kiss with cold, unfeeling lips


O wind! Untamed and ever free
Can thou, the gentle bearer, know
This life so dark I cannot see
This world with nowhere safe to go?
And dost thou sing for starry skies
Or in the darkness yearn for eyes?


O snowflake, clinging to my hair
So intricate, so small and pure
What couldst thou know of blank despair
Of death’s deceptive, restful lure?
O that I could be as thou art;
Refresh and make anew my heart!


Unique art thou, but though my touch
Is gentle, deep within my hand
There lies a dread destroyer, such
As thou art pow’rless to withstand.
I cannot hope to bid thee stay
But only watch thee fade away--


And yet, with but a moment past
Another comes to take thy place
As if thou were not meant to last
Thy memory to be erased...
I stand and wonder: could it be
That I am truly like to thee?




[Disclaimer: As this poem was written for class and is an attempt to emulate the style of romantic-era poets such as Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats, the sentiments of the poem’s speaker are not necessarily those of the author.]