The sky unscrolls, a veil of fire,
The earth inhales, a womb entire.
Mountains murmur, rivers bend
All things arise, dissolve, transcend.
The moon’s pale hush, the sun’s fierce call,
Trace shadows cast beyond them all.
The tide surrenders to the land,
No struggle, only open hand.

In every stone, a silent ache;
In every leaf, the wind’s own wake.
A breath not born of lung or throat
Moves through the marrow, keeps it afloat.
What gives is vast, and gives through all
Yet mind forgets, and fears the fall.
It names the love, then runs from flame;
It seeks the path, then veils the name.

The soul recalls what time erased
A rhythm lost, a fire faced.
Through fog and fracture, ash and bone,
It follows songs the stars have known.
Desire appears in shifting guise,
A thousand forms, a million eyes.
Each one a mirror lit by flame,
Each one a wound that speaks a name.

And still the Light behind the play
Does not withdraw, does not decay.
It waits beneath the thrum of thought,
Unmoved, untouched, yet always sought.
Not skyward, no not upward throne
It hums within the blood, the bone.
Let rising fall, let seeking cease,
The fire remains, the fire is peace.

The timeless ones, the inward wise,
Did not pursue the fading prize.
They drank the dark, they kissed the storm,
And vanished back to formless form.
No titles clung, no names endured,
Yet through their hush, the world was cured.
And here the trace of footless feet,
Where I dissolve, where we all meet.

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 end of certainty is not the end of the world,
but the dawn of a deeper vision.
We believed the earth was solid, the heavens unshaken,
the laws eternal and unmoving.
Yet beneath every stone lies movement,
within every silence—an echo of change.

Certainty was our shelter,
but also our prison.
It closed the doors of imagination,
it chained the infinite to the finite.
Now the walls have fallen.
We see the universe not as a machine,
but as a mystery—
a flowing river of becoming.

The end of certainty is the beginning of freedom.
To live without anchors,
to walk among paradoxes,
to welcome uncertainty as the companion of truth.
In the vast sky of unknowing,
we discover the stars of possibility.

Here begins our journey—
from the ruins of the absolute
to the open horizon of the infinite.

I
Humanitas

The hortus conclusus, the refuge, orderly whole of the cosmos,
Here we stand, utterly devoid of internal order.
For all things that are, the effects of chaos we harbor.
We yearn for quiet, yet we live to govern or punish.
Reminding us of our own mortality, where powerlessness leaves her blemish.

The universe has gracefully granted us the senses to experience all of her glory.
Fear has, however held them tightly in her grasp and sharpened the sword with which she bullies.
She blinds us, chokes us, finds herself coursing through our veins whilst having us firmly stuck wherever she has struck before we even realize we are no longer the same.

At this moment, Venus appears before us bearing a rose.
Looking through our soul, waiting for when around the stems our hands close,
Thorns of the sharpest kind rip into our flesh, blood seemingly draining the flower’s color.
The petals succumb to the diseased darkness that seeps through us,
Slowly wilting away into a sea of nothingness to which we surrender; her poison of love.

The sea of scorn slowly envelops our limbs announcing its presence,
The color of nothingness turns to a violent violet void.
We try to fight her, but she had won before it even started; we had met Guilt’s very essence.
Her presence deeply imbedded within us, there might be only one way out.

This way out was to go further in, deeper than ever before,
We sink to the bottom, somehow making it to the top.
Surrounding us, a plane of metamorphosing grief salivating at the idea of consuming more.
A new kind of darkness this time, only through the nucleus of danger could it develop.

II
Fulminare

We had never felt such a transformative, disturbing aura,
And amidst the obscurity of these planes stands a beam of light: courage.
A stoic figure remains, drawing and reflecting the moon’s light as a beacon might.
The statuesque Fortitude resisting a languishing Paranoia.

Overcome by power we couldn’t understand,
We seek refuge by its feet, contemplating the meanings of what we see.
Darkness slowly consuming us, Light begging us to follow her command.
Just as we begin to feel, it seems we have already given up.
The shadows have decided what we’ll be, slipping away, we fall in too deep.
An escape from the Light and her cardinal virtue, how could we possibly disagree?

Yet again we find ourselves aimlessly traveling the planes.
This time, something has shattered inside of us,
A primal force that caves the chest in.
Anger has manifested herself, ever so appealing and treasonous.

Looking down upon the burnt remains of our chest,
Feeling as though we are harboring an unknown life form.
She had found her place, and had been waiting a while she confessed.
We look up to the stars as the threat of her presence vibrates throughout, whispering transform.
Wonder, loneliness, uncertainty, loss and despair take over.

As once again, we exist aimlessly, far from where we started but nowhere closer to our unknown purpose.
This voyage is endless, what could transform mean?
For this journey has now transcended spaces and time.
Taking over our mind are scenes of roses, seas, statues, monsters and the unseen.
Putting an end to this would be sublime.

III
Benedicere

As we take our next step, the ground below disappears,
Our vessel being subjected to the effects of gravity drawing us into nothingness.
Right before letting go, a spark finds her way to reveal something we had built for years.
She transformed herself into a flight of stairs.
Disappointed and weak, we tried one last time to climb,
Traveling through realms of body, mind and soul: time.

Still blinded by Fear, we sense connection,
A tower appearing before our fragile eyes.
The stairs continue, circling the mausoleum of liberation.
Hope granting us clarity and perception through clouds of false illusions.

Light had returned, otherwise though,
Softer and far more possessive than ever before.
Shades of vermilion, mauve, coral and the slight hue of azure now unveiling.
Darkness evaporating as dawn gave us something to hope for.
Night was, however, still lingering,
Reminding us of her never-ending presence within.


The cavity in my chest vibrating, entire pieces of me migrating.
A white orb this time, mending the previously damaged vessel, now body.
The complete absence of color in its purest state.
I was ripped from where I had stood calmly,
It guided me through time and space, showering me in tranquility, lifting years of weight off my spirit.

Glancing around I see stone walls;
Destroyed ramparts, ruins covered by ivy, others standing strong.
This place, lush and green has somehow beaten the chaos; survived it all.

I was in a garden, was it mine? Paranoid
Was this what I was running from, what I was trying to avoid?

Floating before me, the orb lowers to the ground and takes on a recognizable form.
She hands me a cosmo of scarlet petals and beckons me to follow.
Now I know, this is where I belong, we were home all along.

This path
Is more like a bridge
Without rails.

I’m taking baby steps,
I already see the light.

I’m hearing thunder—
Still distant,
But I hear it.

Mommy is coming.

A warrior in a deep thicket,
where the path lies hidden,
thoughts are buried in shadows.

Legs hang heavy,
arms bear carved stories,
eyes—emptied of light—
still search for a road unseen.

Sometimes I look toward the horizon
and there is nothing—
only a line.

And it scares me.

Because nothing
can be just nothing,
or it can be everything.

And the line
can be just a line,
or it can be the beginning
of a journey—
not the arrival.