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Omnipresent Burdens

In every breath I take,
I only fill my emptiness
With air
For a brief while.

A longer release from this nameless burden that sits over me,
Would really be appreciated, you see?

I cannot breathe in for too long,
The weight returns with a spiking pain,
As painful as a somber memory...

Without name and cause,
This burden rests above my chest,
Yet from there it will not budge,
And I must be an Atlas, holding up the sky.

But wherefore does this weary weight come from,
It weighs heavy on the worn soul,
And when one knows not its cause,
It resembles a mystery to unfold.

My life is good and my worries are few,
Yet this immaterial intangible weight
Still constantly rests on my soul.

Are there others in this world
With so queer a tale to tell?
So I ask, dear readers,
So you feel such impending dread?

– Maya Desdemona

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Nocturne


Sweet Nocturne,
She needs not the light of day,
Nor the labours that do not pay,
For with her she has numerous nebulae,
That keep her at bay.

She is oft mistaken with coldness and death,
But in her darkness one finds a hearth,
A truly limitless rebirth,
Yet one that blazes with solace.

It needs no light
And does not burn too bright,
So as to hurt your eyes
And feed you with all-encompassing lies.

For sweet Nocturne is Wicked
Man’s veil,
Though the many layers of her beauty
Enclose many in pain,
Those lost souls always searching for their way
Will always find themselves in that dark haze.

– Maya Desdemona, Arsh.

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After The Words Are Exchanged

I have been cruel.
I don't know if it was necessary.
I don't know if it was deserved.
All I know is that I have been cruel.

Why was it so?
Do I even regret it?
Have I truly stooped so low in this life?

The thought plagues me.
I know not what I have done,
But the thorns around my heart
Constrict with knowing silence.

They were merely words,
Having no effect on the receiver.
But I must live
Knowing I have been cruel.

– Maya Desdemona

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Humanity

What gives an entity humanity?
It cannot be love,
For some humans don't feel it,
Though they are as human as everyone else.

What gives someone humanity?
It cannot be empathy,
For some people don't feel it,
Though they are as human as everyone else.

What gives someone
The right to decide another's humanity?
For humanity is an oft debated subject,
That no one knows the answer to.

Our humanity doesn't define us,
As we can't define our humanity.
So what makes us any different
From non-human entities?

– Arsh

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Day Twenty Nine: On Belonging

I have never understood the concept of 'belonging'.
How could any thing, 
Or being of this planet be assigned to anything? 
Who would decide that? 
What would it mean to that person? 
I have noticed that it often becomes a part of their personality, 
But what is its relevance? 
What is this 'belonging' to begin with?

– Maya Desdemona

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Day Twenty Eight: Prison Pastimes

Pessoa once wrote
In his Book of Disquiet,
That "Only the imprisoned,
With the fascination 
Of someone watching ants,
Would pay such attention
To one shifting ray of sunlight."

At first I begged to differ,
Stating my reasoning
That great poets were never once caged,
But the more I thought on the matter
The clearer it seemed to me,
That the only cage holding such a poet
Is one of his own decree.

– Maya Desdemona

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Day Twenty Seven: Clockwork

Your mechanical typing
Truly resembles clockwork.

Although I am aware
That you are, at present,
Heartlessly and mindlessly at work,
I cannot help but compare you to clockwork.

The many gears of your mind are turning,
Your hands continually typing,
Your soul is now nonexistent,
And your heart seems to have failing power.

Such a lively person so lifeless,
Can even strike something called pity,
Yet I know you well,
And can only cackle at your half-heartedness.

But my, What is this?
It seems my laughter has raised your spirits,
And now you happily chat with me,
While your work lays forgotten.

– Maya Desdemona

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Day Twenty Six: Daydreaming

I am here,
Though my mind is anywhere but.

That mind refuses to be caged
In the tight confines of the cranium,
And freely roams the world.

The tragedies of Old
And comedies that are new
Are where you will find mine,
Forever seeking entertainment.

Oftentimes I wonder
Why it leaves me behind.
Take me with you, dear mind,
Don't leave the flesh behind on this planet.

Yet the mind will forever only watch,
Never feel the emotions that
It travels Fact and Fiction to see.

I suppose,
In this sense,
A closed cage is better than
Never feeling what one sees.

– Maya Desdemona