Tomo of Echostream

Different Worlds

Hands so soft against hands rough and weathered.

Celt and Samurai.

Hopeless love.

Selfish obsession.

What will become of my sanity now?

I Hate You Then I Love You by Celine Dion

Self Portrait

MIND

When you take a peek inside
This fucked up mind of mine
While some may run and hide
You may think I am divine
Between the dark and light
There's nothing but the grey
So I'm ever losing sight
Ever losing my way
Each time I find a path
Walls stand blocking me
I seek to vent my wrath
On all those mocking me
For momentary lapses
For showing my gentle guise
They watch as my heart collapses
Under the weight of their malicious lies
So I beg you to stick around
I sincerely hope you do
For if daemons are to be found
I've got angels in me too

*********

BODY

Desire the chrysanthemum
And you'll find she's quite the rose
Her petals just as delicate
If not inspiring poetry or prose
Her heavy blooms just as pleasing
Though not pert and petite
Her perfume not as strong
Yet her nectar just as sweet
Her blossoms envelope you completely
While roses bruise and break
Yet alas, given her beauty
Her, for the rose they will forsake
Just remember, though the rose sparkles
In the dew of the early morn
The chrysanthemum is just as lovely
And does not bear the thorns


*********


HEART

Tatters fly in the wind
Consumed by the raging storm
These are the remains of my heart
Please tell me it's not the norm
For once it was so red
Like berries so sweet
Now it is grey and rotted
Like maggot-ridden meat
Someone always picks the scabs
Each time it has been healed
Rips apart the stitches
Each time a cut has sealed
Now you know my friend
Why at times I shift and switch
One minute angel girl
The next a devil bitch


**********


SPIRIT


Dragon breath fills my lungs
Wolf cry escapes my lips
Hawk wings caress my hair
Cat purrs under my fingertips
Soul as old as stones
Knowledge yet revealed
Power still untapped
Mystery still concealed
Cauldron calling to be filled
Candle crying to be lit
Bell begging to be rung
Spell seeking to be writ
Phoenix raised from the fires
Survivor of the flame
Now you know my Spirit
Can you speak my name?

Wicked Game

Lament

Exile

She was barred from seeing him: the hole in her heart widening with the Triumvirate's judgment to exile Raiden and secure Rhia within the boundaries of the province.

Shrieking in rage in despair, she had fallen to her knees on the steps of the dais, pleading Raiden's innocence to no avail. The guards were forced to pull her away from the Hall, Raiden looking on with a blank stare as all emotion ran out of him, leaving him numb.

Rhia now stood on the battlements, watching as Raiden rode his grey stallion out of the gates, escorted by Jarrod and four of his Scouts, his black cloak concealing his form from her eyes. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she mouthed "turn around- please turn around" over and over again.

Jarrod looked back to see her and frowned as he leaned into Raiden.

"You are not worthy of her, yet still she stands in grief as if she were watching your funeral procession," Jarrod sneered. "Will you not look back and acknowledge her even once?"

"Better she begin to forget me," Raiden replied coldly, focusing his gaze ahead of him.

"Gra, dilseacht, cairdeas- a-chaoidh Raiden!"

Raiden winced as he heard Rhia shout their endearment across the battlements, yet he refused to turn around, his own eyes filling with tears. Yet when she shouted it again, he whirled his steed around and kicked him into full gallop, Jarrod and his men cursing as they struggled to catch up to him.

Rhia gasped as she saw him riding toward the gates, hood flying back to reveal his beautiful face set in an expression of determination. He reigned in just below the battlements and stood in the stirrups, eyes flashing with passion.

"Gra, dilseacht, cairdeas- a-chaoidh Rhia!"

She looked down at him and smiled, tears flowing in torrents down her cheeks. Her heart leaped as Jarrod and his Scouts surrounded him, hands on their hilts.

"Count yourself lucky she stands there as witness," Jarrod hissed, "otherwise I would have the right to cut you down where you stand."

Raiden's eyes flashed as he turned to Jarrod. "You have that right despite her presence, Jarrod- what you lack is the courage."

With that, he nudged his steed into a canter, once again proceeding with his escort to his exile and vowing to see the Triumvirates fall and Jarrod begging at his feet for mercy.

That night, Rhia chased the Wards of the Keep out of Raiden's quarters with her sword, claiming them as her own as she fell upon his bed, curling herself around the blankets and pillows which still held his scent.

The tears would simply not stop- she had went from sobbing uncontrollably to simply laying in silence, the tears pouring relentlessly from her eyes, soaking the pillows.

She could still feel him holding her, still feel his silken locks across her shoulders.

And her heart broke even further.

What Have You Done- I Have No Faramir

Mon Chevalier

"A hopeless battle is the only battle that cannot be lost- if you lose and die, you expected it and succeeded- if you win, it is a pleasant surprise."

Diseased

The sickness consumes me, dragging me down into its pit of woe.

I am so tired, my wounds not healing like they should, my strength ebbing with every blow. How long I can go on like this, I have no clue- my blade is rusted, my spirit weathered, covered in skin that peels and just won't heal.

Yet I cannot rest, must continue the fight, must not let the enemy know they have struck me to the very core.

Shield broken.

Heat battered.

And no one to rescue me but myself....

Insanity

Beautifully Broken

He is like a calm breeze before the storm, exploding without warning into a tsunami and sweeping everyone in his path up with him- he is creation and destruction, sweetness and sorrow.

And foolishly I have fallen.

He has caused these wings to sprout, giving me flight, yet they become heavy with his apathy, his dark bitterness consuming the very air around me. I want back the days he spoke of cherry blossoms and conquest, when he spoke of his rage against his enemies- anything save for his apathy. His coldness wounds me, his alluding to the "irrelevance" of my care a spear to my soul.

My heart so foolish, my head so illogical.

This is why I remain beautifully broken.