My heart is locked in a bony cage,
Where it writhes and turns for Freedom's sweet lips.
It toils to keep this mortal vessel alive,
Yet struggles to find some peace of mind.
But Darkness calls with comfort and change,
Death's loving embrace so gentle and safe,
The Night calls away all worries formed by Day.
– Maya Desdemona
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.
Does anyone else feel
That the Sky feels closer
The older we get?
My younger self would whine,
Seeing no stars in the then polluted sky.
Yet today I find,
Even constellations here shine.
The forever cloudy sky looks dim,
And often finds an inky undertone to lie in.
The Moon is perfectly halved,
Drowned in both Darkness and Light.
Today, I only happened
To see the sky by chance,
But even this chance viewing
Danced within my inner eye.
– Maya Desdemona
I can never understand how
A person can associate the night,
With its peaceful presence,
The numerous stars,
The ever changing sky
And the lonesome moon with evil.
Maybe it is because the night holds us when we are most vulnerable,
And sees us for who we are.
It is only the Night which can see all our sins, and all our misgivings.
It is only in the Night, where the stoned face sheds a tear.
It is only in the Night, where the most paranoid shuts one eye.
It is only the Night which shadows the wrongdoings of the human race.
It is only the Night which shadows a predator from its prey.
It is only the Night which can see our dreams and nightmares, a myriad of emotions Stemming from the plagues of the mind and the soul.
Maybe it is simply because, the Night always sees.
No, let us put this argument in perspective.
It is forced to see what the day does not.
It does not wish to cover the crimes of both man and not.
It cannot reach out to console those who find solace in it.
The moon is merely the sun in disguise,
Miserably looking upon what the man does behind its back.
– Maya Desdemona
Luminousis 