The First Phrase

The First Phrase

When we heard that our invaders
Gathered many, on the horizon
We sent our fabled light brigade
Out to combat the pitch black swell

Among our warriors was a voyager
A figure of legend in those borderlands
Wielding a bright burning rose
Brandishing light against unjust foes

Towns and villages knew his name
Many people were keen to his deeds
A hero of the frontier, well known
A fearless man, quick on the draw

In the fortnight day, battle ensued
A taxing display of enemy power
Broadcast the message that
Enough weren’t our flowers

The enemy was much too powerful
In number, size, rank and morale
To demise many warriors were fated
Luna descended and reinstated

So there he stood on the rune
The last light will be gone soon
The sun at last is setting
A flower he clutched still smoldering

He witnessed nothing today
No, it will be nothing soon
Nothing in his darkness boon
In the shadow of a too-long day

Pre dawn to midday to sun setting
After the battle had finished ebbing
The line of light fading as he sat
Isolated, in his wrecked bivouac

His regiment shunned Luna
And bodies of Earth’s legions
Those behind were left for dead
Except for him: he succumbed

Yet his spirit lay dead with the others
He had been a hero for a long time
But keeping strength for so long
Had led him down grief’s road

Shadows had a voice, a promise
That became a begging call
On the last day of fleeting hope
He watched the fading sun fall

The darkness hungered
Devouring the light of day
It offered him glories and gifts
And power sorely missed

He buried his light slowly
Casing himself deep in darkness
Relinquishing his heroic light
Seeking power in evil blight

In the dusk, he consented
Releasing his humanity
In return, receiving secrets
Of his most wicked sanctity

He was gone now
Consumed by darkness
But in his flesh, was something new
Yet nothing new

In those first moments
Of nothing new
He looked down
At his lifelong rose

That it carried no petals
Only the jagged purpose
Of angry thorns



Say the things yesterday you won’t say today
Make room for today for things you’ll say tomorrow
And to tomorrow, don’t wait, capture the three fates
Of cleanliness, success, and pure joviality

Tend to the great garden you planted last year
Water the nightshade and roses with joyful tears
Make memories in the sun, experience it all
Bask in the rays of fruitful sun and dahl

Part the clouds above yourself and dig wells
Look at the sprouts of belladonna belles
Reap what you sow, you’ll always know
When to harvest and what will emit woe

Take the lovely belles, plant them, and admire
On your windowsill, having tea by the fire
Enjoy the experience as roses around float
Wear this new reality and truth as a capote

And admire the nightshade and drink its aura
Look at the stalk of this dangerous flora
Know the power and fate it may cause
You know yourself, and play by your own laws

Some cry “madman” for what you practice
“You’ll surely die as you drink from that chalice!”
They do not know the immunity you possess
So pay no mind as the truths inside egress

Drink heartily, love happily, and shame the liars
You can love yourself and the belles can be admired
Float down the river of constants and variables
This is all a fierce psychologic parable