The Sovereign spins string on its fingertips
Creating a tapestry of one’s existence
Forced and bound tightly with silk
Silk braided into barbered wires

Choking and constricting to the very core
Thread searing and branding the body
Trapped in a web of deceit
Puppeteering while I try to lead

Captivated by crystalline chains
Chains which bind me to the eternal night
I stare at the darkness
The darkness stares back

Writhing in these woven webs
Struggling and suffocating
In harmonious cacophony
Desperately clawing towards freedom

The crystalline chains crack
Braided silk unravels into strands
Woven webs wax and wane
Nature’s hold withers away

Released from the cocoon of futility
Threads of fate snapped and spindled
Forced tapestry destroyed and left undone
Replaced by a blank piece of cloth

Within forest and thicket,
    Atop shaped stones and carved cliffs,
        Lies a concrete cabin.

Inside cement walls,
    Between wooden boards,
        Under timber and granite,

Hides a lone window.

In silence it opens,
    To a world between the rest.
Think quick.
Step through only now,
    As the window sinks back to asphalt.

Jump into my unknown.
Peer through thin curtains,
    Between gnarled wood and paved stone.
Down bone and brain.

Into a moment,
    A dreamt world amongst the stars.



A still black sea,
    Reflecting night sky's stare.
Alive as one, without wind, or tide.
Zero sound. No marks of man.
Just you, walking on dark.

But the universe watches from above,
    And with silent malice it reaches for you.

The stars speed closer as the sky leans in.
    Faster and faster,
        Racing, falling, its silence howls,
            Trapping you in-between.

As the black sea and the dark skies meet.

Lie down, face up.
    Feel the gap close as the two become one,
        And you'll see through everything.

Past stars, lonely moons, speeding comets.

To the invisible man behind.

The night folds close, heavy like cold stone.
She lies beside me, her breath shallow beneath thick shadows,
her hair a black river pooling on white linen,
each strand tangled like roots in dark earth.

Her eyes carry dawn’s first fracture,
a fragile ember locked inside glass,
depths where silence cracks and fires spark,
hopes burning like distant wildfires in wind-swept hills,
ghost flames licking at cracked sky.

Her beauty exhales, a hymn carved from frost and ash,
a steady pulse threading through bone and marrow,
sealing quiet with the scent of old-world smoke
rising slow from cold altars beneath a sky bruised with clouds,
casting shadows sharp as frozen blades.

In that suspended quiet, I hold firm.
I stir awake, as if my core had waited
buried beneath frozen soil,
an isolated flame kindled by hidden storms,
finding its mirror in the fragile blaze of her gaze.