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
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
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
All it takes
To ruin the peace of
One who does not know war
Is the greed of One individual.
– Maya Desdemona
I suppose the reason I find the human mind the most rotten of all is only because it is the only one I know and understand.
There could be something way more malicious, but a human being would never know, for one can only truly communicate with other humans.
...
How terrifying.
– Maya Desdemona
What would reincarnation feel like?
Would I be glad for another chance?
Or would I miss my previous life?
Would it be a new beginning?
Or would it be another series of regrets?
I hope that I never have to know.
– Arsh
A mad descent into darkness,
Has always fit her more properly than,
The cruel trappings of society
Have ever done.
– Arsh
I passed by a small lake,
Devoid of even a single ripple,
And saw it reflect everything beside it with perfect clarity.
To me, it seemed more truthful than
Any mirror I had ever gazed upon.
I saw it for but a fleeting moment,
But that simple glance showed me an entire world around it.
– Maya Desdemona
Icarus may have fallen,
But he experienced the feeling of
Freedom from a tyrant,
And the sensation of flying free.
What more could he have asked for?
Orpheus may have turned back
To look for Eurydice,
But she never doubted his love for her,
Not when he bargained with Hades for her life.
What more could she have asked for?
Prometheus may have been punished
With eternal torment,
But his name lives forevermore
As the forerunner of human civilisation.
What more could he have asked for?
These long gone times may have made
These myths into tragedies,
But those in the myths
Have triumphed in their own way,
So what more could they have asked for?
– Arsh
A most curious thought came upon me today.
Such a mundane action
Of lighting a candle
Is hardly what one would call
'Thought provoking'.
Yet on this day,
In this very hour,
I suppose I could blame the environment
For this unexpected conflict,
I find myself sympathising with a Matchstick.
One of many,
A most unremarkable one, at that,
That so happened to expire in my hand.
Once it served its purpose,
It was simply blown out without a second glance.
But today,
The mind lingered on an observation.
That matchstick continued to burn,
Albeit a dying ember now.
Yet all it took was a small tremor,
A flick of my wrist,
For that small light
To be snatched away.
How similar material objects are to their creators.
– Maya Desdemona
Luminousis 