"Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it." ~Rumi
To my sky,
Quivers from the shattered wind beating against dry dust traversed the fluid vestige of blank noise, hanging in the fragile balance and so close to silence. I wanted to tell you, assuming you would understand, how much it filled my ears, seeping into my vision and corrupting everything I saw. Beautiful corruption, ironic. Beauty became bland, and I sought after greater beauty. Greater beauty soon became greater blatancy, and thus I sought higher beauty. They called it growth, and told me that it was helpful. The only thing it's done is take away, leaving me with this repugnant curse they call knowledge.
The veins are gone. Blood stopped flowing to my hand as soon as it became accustomed to the feeling, as soon as it was no longer new. I can't seem to keep my eyes off the skies, counting the days as the clouds become plainer each day. Then I realized. The aphelia had come swiftly, spinning out of control around the massive oculus of energy and fire. But it was too late, I would not recognize it.
Trapped, again and again, in this panglossian paean of incondite happiness. Someone was watching me, now I know who. It was me, I was watching myself slip away and I hadn't even realized it. I learned nothing, and everything cascaded before I could. Flooded by the myriad of evanescent memories, holding on to the scintilla of what was left before it faded. And so I embraced the phantasmagoria, and the illusion became my reality. It was the panacea, despite every eternal second it beleagured me with thoughts sharper than blades and swifter than arrows.
In this I found beauty, because I could not find it anywhere else. In the susurrus I heard shouts and screams crawling and creeping from the beauty I once knew, but it never returned. Shackled in the chrysalis of bleeding poetry.
Still, I couldn't cry. This... This curse is the only other beauty that I can grasp. But the sky, I could never keep my eyes away from it. Even if the blue sky of the world faded away with its beauty, I would still have you, my sky. Strange that I should find quiescence in such circumstance, but I can't say I hadn't expected it. I hold on tightly, my blood rushing into my hands again as I grasp tighter. Struggling desperately never to let go of your eyes, the only beauty that never faded. And for the first time, in a long while...
...I could feel.
-Yours truly, Deathless
