I want to hold the sun, as a flame.
As a shroud that no longer needs his name.
Devalues his origin, and the costs incurred.
I'll dissolve in the furnace, my body deferred.

It is not the burning that I truly seek,
But a quiet surrender, at a radiant peak.
The kind that evaporates matter aligned,
In myths of forever, leaving time behind.

I want to watch as light rays become dust.
As suns burn hollow, saturate and then rust.
Not where I'm dying, but morphing sublime.
A process dissolving emotions and mind.

To hold the sun is to grasp at gold.
Abandon the flesh, that's grown tired and cold.
To slip through the cracks where mortality turns.
And breathe in the silence as lungs start to burn.

For there is a place where the ashes belong.
Where shadows are living and scream with a song.
Where the afterlife is not just a realm I'll behold,
But a quiet ascension to a gnosis untold.

With stars I share a secret. "The Divine are forgiving".
Their quantum doorways are their gift to the living.
I want to walk through, with that luminous flow.
My transmogrification into the unknown.

To hold the sun is to become its light,
To no longer struggle in the dark cosmic fight.
To emerge as the stardust that I know is pure.
Lay the illness of a life in defeat by Deaths Cure.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦

I Am The CaveDweller

My soul is bound to the comfort of night.
I see peace in the eyes of those walking in light.
Why is mine a lonesome, misbegotten path?
Bound to my darkness, with blackness, my craft.
They see vividly what I see in smears.
I'd rather be Blind, never seen it more clear.

I Am The DeathEater

My path, criticized. My love, mistaken.
My truths, demonized. My intentions, forsaken.
I exist in my very own questionable ways.
Is what they may say. But yet, either way,
They have failed to explain such a lack in my soul,
The obligation to judge someone's ways, or my own.

I Am The DreamKeeper

I only doubt the meta-space where I belong.
At any given time, my intention is not wrong.
Why am I undeserving of the blessing of eyes,
Capable of enjoying this dreadful paradise?
Designed in a way to be loved in its allure.
Yet my reality holds a truth morbid and obscure.

I am The FleshKiller

My outward darkness veils a radiant light.
For under the skin, I am truly alive.
Aware of the truths, of the infinite "you",
The finite "you" hides from others, and you.
I criticize my flesh as if I’m it's maker.
I'm ashamed of this life. But I'm not a LifeTaker.

I Am The LightBringer

The allure of light is heartbreaking.
As I remain in my statuette state of polarity,
I will only dream of me belonging.
It remains and sustains, acceptance and peace.
Yet for me, they remain just out of my reach.
I die by the hour while soaking in bleach.

I Am The FatePainter

I'm a sinful sonnet, a broken poem within.
With my creative means to my own creative end.
The TruthCraving LieBreaker, known as my head.
Screaming “This is the end. You'll never begin again..."
Yet I face another canvas, this in mind, for my sake.
Every stroke I can make, paints my darkest mistakes.

I Am The MindShaper

Limited possibilities of existence make me numb.
I understand every start brings a darker outcome.
Is there really no promise, of existential peace?
Can a bright soul, entrapped, ever be set free?
I only question form, from within this faulted case.
In metaphysical space, I've been put in my place.

I Am The EndSeeker

I cannot obtain, what I have never seen.
To live and show love is to live a true me.
I'm a creature of creation, On this abysmal planet.
I'll orbit the sun, I will suffer, then I'll vanish.
I float above the black. Trapped below the white.
****** hands washed with tears, as I carve out my light.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦

She came to me, with a vial of dust.
A means of a healing, the taste was like rust.
Her wings, her secret. Her halo gave no light,
As my desperate song found her ears in the night.

I knew what she offered. I knew the whole game.
And yet, I moved forward—a moth to a flame.
Her vial sparked flares that pierced through the black.
I knew in that moment; I’d never look back.

An ember lit the dust, its smoke filled my being—
An offering to the soul, to keep it from leaving.
Each grain was a vow. Each breath was a sin.
Yet a life that laid to end, now stood to begin.

But when the dawn broke, she was no longer there.
Just poison on my breath and dust in the air.
I did find the vial, but no other trace.
Just a void in the air and a numb, rusty taste.

I walk the dark path. Her whispers, my guide.
Chasing silence, so me and my demons can hide.
She gave me the calm in a handful of ash.
For once, I have laid down the guilt of my crash.

I'm addicted. I still sing that desperate song.
Here to stay, where I may, or I may not belong.
A forbidden solace, that keeps me in the calm.
My shadow that still tries to pull me along.

I remain tormented, so this dust stays near.
Angelic in essence, how it banishes fear.
This angel didn’t save me. For this, I have sight.
But gave me the will to outlast one more night.

By day, perceived evil. By night, purely good.
Should I alter my state? For a will to live, I could.
Might someone judge me? Who’s to say it's not right?
To choose life one more time and keep carving out light.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦

To be as The Moth, born to the dark.
A fleeting fragment, a flickering spark.
To live life alone and die by the flame.
To be its own shadow. To not have a name.

Guided by stars too distant to hold.
To exist as a soul, that exists all alone.
To run into hiding by dawn’s first light.
To be haunted by, and to haunt all in sight.

Each light forms a lust that burns like a vow.
A promise of warmth that its fate won’t allow.
With wings, so fragile, that are pinned to this fate,
Its destiny cursed like sins born into saints.

Not resting at night, nor waking in peace.
For the pulse of the glow, we know, doesn’t cease.
To be called to the light as it paints life black.
To be deemed punishable before any ill act.

Yet The Moth questions nothing, asks nothing in return.
Never questions its darkness, or why the light burns.
A creature that lives in desperation of the night.
A creature that dies by desperation for the light.

Its symbolism, carved in my endless pursuit.
My shape stitched into the seams of The Moth's truth.
A life chasing embers no matter fate’s cost.
To be as The Moth, to find only what's lost.

Just like The Moth, I was born to the dark.
A fragmented soul with a flickering spark.
To live life alone and die by the flame.
To be my own shadow. To forget my own name.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦

I am not whole. I am fragments, arrayed.
I fade into gray. The dusk steals day.
A shadow in time, I drift out of scope.
I'm lost in some void I've created to cope.

Am I real in the moments when I am not seen?
I'm dead in my light, two souls caught between.
My thoughts twist and turn like an entangled thread.
I'm alive and I'm dead, both only in my head.

My truth has been lost, Identity unclear.
A haunted soul screaming that only I hear.
My sight is obscured. A curse left me torn.  
I'm the dead that I mourn. I'm the living unborn.

Through time’s endless loop, I twist, and I bend.
In stories untold, cause they’re never going to end.
My mind shifts dimensions, untethered and free.
Yet bound by the question, “What’s really left of me?”

My past echoes a dead voice that remains.
An unobserved self, that's still screaming in pain.
There's a rip in our fabric, a crack in our sky.
His dreams are now shrouded, the nightmares are mine.

I’m a riddle I've created, that I can't even solve.
I fall like the snow, I silently dissolve.
I grasp at the stars, but I'm burned by their light.
My Passions, like flames, smothered from sight.

Not of the flesh, the blood, or the bone,
A desolate recluse, that never feels alone.
I speed through the night just to die every day.
I'm valued for words, till there's nothing to say.

I'm the outlet for a lonesome omni-God.
Caught between the real, the imagined, and the fraud.
I vanish so quick, like the smoke from my lungs.
The thoughts I can't translate, I'm thinking in tongues.

I ask who I am but never give Myself answers.
My condition never ends. I'd rather it be cancer.
I'm nothing but a ripple of thought in my dreams.
Then the moment I'm seen, I lose everything.

Through layers of time that I cannot perceive.
Bound by the question, “What’s really left of me?”
A shadow in time, I'm drifting out of scope.
Tangled in entangled strings, lest I hang from a rope.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦

Growth is an ache, not a gentle stretch,
a breaking open, not a quiet bloom.
It is shedding skin that clings too tight,
the sting of air on what was once concealed.

You tell yourself to swallow it down,
to press the weight of feeling into silence,
as if strength is the absence of pain,
as if numbness is wisdom.

But the dam cracks.
A flood will always find its way,
rushing through the spaces you ignored,
drowning the quiet you mistook for peace.

You cannot rise while buried alive.
You must sit in the mess of yourself,
let the grief, the rage, the joy, the longing
unfold their lessons in your hands.

For to feel is to know,
and to know is to grow—
not in comfort, not in ease,
but in truth