Before - Legends Gate-way to Infinity (poetry?some angst)

It was once a dream.
Real by loosest definitions.
But now that it has become to real.
Less to one's self.
But more to everything.
Everything.
Unconciously flicking shards of psyche off each other.
Until there is so little left of the beginning the end takes over.

So maybe the brilliance is gone.
The aura has faded.
Words can now depict it.

So stray away.
Decline tarrying.
Decline lingering at the hesitant gates and decide.
Stay or go?
Stay or go?
Stay of go?

Just leave for a few moments ad forget about it until someone whisks everything back.
Back where it should be.
So take it.
Then stray away.

 

In the midst of nothing.
So much hope.
But no control over anything besides themselves.

But all they have to do is come.
And wait.
And do their share.
And voila.

And some of them.
Those who may or may not know this lightlessness.
Those who didn't know that was what happened.
Do their share.
And provide hope.

 

No one's eye(s) to look into.
But not alone.
Definitely not.

There are others who experience this.
This dulling of success.
The catch is whether or not the give up.

Giving up.
The pollution of humanity.
What do the others say?
What do they prod you with since the moment they felt like it?
Never give up.
Wrong.

You have to give up the past moments.
You'll have to be a prodigy to return.
No delay, if that's your future.

You have to give up so much.
And so often, there is no choice.
So.
Some cease to give up if they could continue?
Who?
Who knows.

 

It was lonely.

It was a solitary entity in contrast of vast emptiness, remaining stone-still, knowing there was nothing to see.

Yet, against all odds, the figure advanced onward.

A single, unpredictable pulse of light.

But compared to what it isn?t, it is merely a frail, dim aura.

Yet into negative infinity, this existence proceeded.

Nothing happened.
No miracles.
No such luck.

The light soared on and on, but there were no shadows?and nothing to cast the shadows.
The light kept being replaced by nothingness.
It simply passes through like time slips through our fingers.

There was no darkness.

So would it really be so good?

Would it??to have nothing but light?

 

Gateway to Infinity:

Gradually ebbing away into no time whatsoever.

Just eternity rushing by like the wind, letting you wait for the end in silence.

Yet it seems like the final thread goes on for forever.

Then, you look carefully, and see the end looming before.

A spasm of fear overtakes your judgment, and you flee, reaching for the past.

But the past has passed, and it only happens once.

The menace coils itself around you, stopping time for a moment.

It then slithers out of your grasp, leaving you still and helpless.

There is nothing you can do, but helplessly watch your experience repeat over and over with everyone else.

Over and over.

Time, starting and ending.

A cruel thread, whose beginning is taken for granted but its end is regret.
Though benign, because it?s there in the first place.

Welcome to Infinity.

 

Congrats on that nom!

Shoo it from everything beyond right here.
A place.
With a given name and a chosen name.
At random.

But is it really at random, or was it predeterminded? That is the question.

While in the midst of this forever mutiny and chaos.
A still, slmost irrelevant presence seeps its way through everything.

Okay, that's a little thought-provoking, isn't it? But then... the darkside is that way...

Because you don't create music out of nothing.
You find it in everything.
Flanked by nothing.

Sort of... if no one is there to hear the grasshopper, does it still chirp?

So maybe the brilliance is gone.
The aura has faded.
Words can now depict it.

Depict it, yes... but capture it in entirety? No.


Well done and wonderful posts. (I'd like some more... )


edit: mark-up error...

 

Of course it still chirps. Just because no one hears it... it's like when people don't believe the truth for some illogical human reason. Just because they don't believe it doesn't mean it isn't true.

What came first, the chicken or the egg? Better stated: what came first, the dinosaur or the egg?

UPDATE:

Remember that spark.

Some time ago, it was lost in broad daylight.

But when the sun fell before the night, the night swept into pursuit.

However, the spark is steadying, slowly becoming more prominent against the darkness.

The spark is now a beaming star, lighting the path.

A path to something greater. Better.
A path that guides the blind into sight.
The deaf into music.

And the path itself, a poem.

 

Wow wow wow.
This is incredible/inspired/epic/amazing/jaw-dropping.

I really liked this poem:

Darkness.
It's never black.
It's music.

Light.
It's dimensionless.
It's music.

Silence.
It's almost everywhere.
It's music.

Time.
It's passing no matter what.
It's music.

Emotion.
It's all of feeling.
It's music.

And to pause for an infinite instant.
Drawing out each resonance.
Then fading somewhere into the distance.
Somewhere far away.
Never to return.

Great job!

 

CrystalSaber_1: Gracias x 100 and [*helps you pick up your jaw and screw it back on*]

 

Contradiction:


Firm.
But not stiff.

Dark.
But not evil.

Gentle.
But not weak.

Faded.
But not dull.


Lyric.
But not overdone.

Brilliant.
But not harsh.

Bright.
But not blinding.

Contradicting.
But not unrelated.

It's over.
But it's echoing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just so there is no confusion, this thread isn't not over--the poem is.

 

One error.
And it mars the moment.

Two errors.
And it mars two moments.

Too many errors.
And it collapses on your life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
mini-poem

 

A path to something greater. Better.
A path that guides the blind into sight.
The deaf into music.

And the path itself, a poem.

Like life itself...

Contradicting.
But not unrelated.

It's over.
But it's echoing.

Oh, yes... in echoes and ripples, that is. The ripples and the echoes can stretch far and wide, and the seemingly unrelated contradictions can be many.

liked mini-poem...

Too many errors.
And it collapses on your life.

Very true, that...

 

Thank you! I appreciate the response

 

Can darkness be vivid?
No.
And light will blind you before you see.

Neither can be vivd without the other.
And neither is without the other.

Imagine a barren landscape.
With nought but a bent and dying tree at the horizon.
With pebbles untouched for centuries at your feet.
With the weakest wind trying to be brutal.

But you cannot see it.

A vague hint of light surges slowly across the sky.
One patch illuminates all.

The world is no longer dark.
No longer pure.

Darkness may be pure without light.
But never is light without darkness.

And true that is.

The darkness was benign.
Through it, you can not see the despair around you.
The ancient hopelessness you see today.

And through the desolation.
You watch the sunrise.

 

That's an interesting way of putting it. I never thought of it in terms of physics, but your concepts make sense.

Great poem.

 

Darth Yuthura: Thank you

 

Sorry for the wait, mujapple... got a little for a bit. Also... for your nom.


Now about this update: loved it and how you described that darkness can survive without the light, but conversely light struggles with the dark and a sort of balance is maintained. Light can illuminate and darkness can hide forever if light does not come.

Good poem. (Keep 'em commin!)

 

DaenaBenjen42: Thanks

 

The mist is rising.
A sheen of fragmented clarity.
Fading into the wind.

The wind carries the message.
Through time and space and entity.
Until the dew spirals down.

The dew sees the light.
It reflects it.
One more faint spark in a world of shadows.

The shadows bridge the distance.
Between light and dark.
Darkness blinds.
Light is blinding.
And the gateways are sight.

 

The dew sees the light.
It reflects it.
One more faint spark in a world of shadows.

And a spark is all you need to start something, anything, both good and bad.

Good poem.

 

DaenaBenjen42: thank you once again


UPDATE:

What if...

There are many things in this world.
Many of which follow "what if".
And then many of these are regrets.
Not possibilities of the future.

And yet many still have to ask:
What if...

 

Yep, there are truly infinite possibilities about a 'what if'.


Good part of the poem.

 

Little bit of this.
Little bit of that.
Little bit of sizzling in the vial.

Little more of this.
Little more of that.
Little more of sizzling in the vial.

Even more of this.
Even more of that.
Even more stupidity in the person.
Even more reason that it exploded.




:in courtesy of what just happened to my nephew

~~~~~~

official declaration: attack of the mini-poems! (due to the absense of my poetry muse)

 

Muse on vacation? Happens to us all. Bring on the mini poems!

And this... not only does it apply to darkside experimentation (in that dabbling is just never enough and eventually it explodes in one's face in some form or another), but also to life as well. (And for your nephew, too.)


Good mini poem.

 

thank you!

this is one year when I'm not so happy about the fact my holiday mood being here ( well, ok, that doesn't sense but that's ok) because then I can't write non-silly... anything.