Ethereality is that which
Can never be obtained,
Never witnessed satisfactorily,
Yet is strived for nevertheless.
This is the folly of mankind,
Searching for immortality
In an everchanging world,
Whose only guarantee
Is the mortality of man.
– Arsh
I Blame Ye Not (Song to Brutus: Part Two)
At least you, child,
Had the decency to kiss the dagger
With which thou rent my Heart.
I have much time, to think about things now.
I could notice every hungry stare at my Crown,
But not the sheer Trickery played by those Carrions on thee.
Surely, they would have persuaded you their cause was Just,
Using the Honour thou cherishes most
As ammunition against thee.
I blame ye not, Brutus, for how could I?
If even my Angel has turned a blade against me,
There is no point to living, simply to breathe.
– Desdemona
A Caged Songbird
In my Heart there lies a Songbird caged,
Yearning to sing in the breeze.
Yet it is trapped in Human flesh,
Far too heavy with sorrows.
And each day that passes,
It drowns a little more in the blood of Human veins,
Far too poisoned, more than any
Heavenly Choir that inspired it.
– Desdemona
Caesar (Ghost)’s Song to Brutus
Forget me not, my darling,
I pray you forget me never.Mimosa pudicaI may be,
Though my bones exalt in reverie,
Don't forget our love,
As pure as an ivory dove.
For you were friend and
Brother to my bones,
My forgotten soul remembers
The laughs we've shared
From times old.
Though as poison ivy
You hath struck me,
Purpled and venom-tongued, envenomed,
I shall but wither
As a Forget-me-not,
While Roses and Briars
Over my tomb do conspire.
– Desdemona
Bad Haircut
Once, I didn't know what to do,
So I tried a bad haircut.
I wasn't sure why I did so,
But I felt more in control then.
My hair was an actual disaster,
But I was proud of it.
– Arsh
Strangers Again
We will never be strangers again,
There is too much history here.
But if one day, we meet again,
And we don't recognize
The person in front of us,
Is that not the making of friends to strangers?
– Arsh
Legacies
We write our stories
In pages we never see,
Permanently mark lives
In ways we'll never know,
And yet, as humans, we still worry
About the impact we will leave
Once we are gone.
– Arsh
This Too Shall Pass
Stop! What are you doing?
Your life is ebbing away,
And here you are, ever idling.
The world is still spinning,
The sultry Swallow's birdsong still sounds,
The flowers still bloom,
And Life moves on.
Your labours shall last forevermore,
Your worries shall never end,
For as you live and breathe,
You shall be troubled yet.
For that is Life, my friend,
Full of beauty and sorrow in equal measure,
And so many feelings strange and new,
While so familiar, and so old.
So take heart! Move on!
Go forth, knowing that
There shall be greater follies than this to come.
The road is tough, the path is long,
But where it leads,
Is your life's call.
– Desdemona
The Jester’s Sinful Privilege
"I jest ye not,
I only know what I see,
And that is a Fool on Our throne."
A peasant once said,
Only to find, the very next day,
His entire family dead.
The man himself
Was hanged for treason,
When in reality,
There was not one,
A proper reason.
A jester that day,
Made the very same claim,
In hopes that his fate,
Would end without much pain.
Yet that horrible crowd,
On hearing his rave,
Just laughed, complete and unfazed.
Had the peasant donned the mask of this harlequin,
His life would not only be spared,
He would be lauded for his comedic praise.
– Maya Desdemona
Ghosts of Time
I am haunted,
Haunted by ghosts.
'Could have been', 'Should have been',
'Could be', and 'Should be'
Are their names.
Alas, it is only these four
That fill my lonesome days.
'Could have been',
'Could have been',
How pitiful you are!
Your grandiose wishes
Were crushed by
Circumstance and chance.
'Should have been'
Shushes all others,
A pearl among the gems.
He lies like a carcass
Hewn for the hounds, helpless.
'Could be' is the cruellest of them all,
A cry to the present,
But to 'face thyself' is to 'face thy enemy',
'Tis but a cascading conquest.
'Should be' is the sternest,
The shrillest of the four,
The future is in her hands,
Though the past is set in stone.
These companions, mine,
Seem to enter the eye
Only in the depths of Night,
To flow like sand under a rock,
Wasting hours of my life.
– Maya Desdemona
Luminousis 