The Awakening of a Fallen Man (poem)

I have fallen.

Why?

When I faced my father, Death,

I ran into a safer past.

I ran into passionate loves,

Cold winter walks,

Terrible and destructive habits,

Powerful and awful emotions.

Instead of moving forward,

I stepped back,

Renounced my sacred friend,

And returned to the old worship of Love.

But he, my old friend,

Would not simply leave me.

He stayed and reminded me

Of the folly of that old pursuit.

He showed me the grey,

Which I was diving back into,

All because of one belief:

That Love can overcome all.

But no matter how much I love her,

I'm still distant and alone.

No matter how much they love me and I them,

The family struggles won't go away.

And every time I give into Love,

I set myself up to fall,

To give into anger, jealousy, hate,

Become overwhelmed by simple sorrow.

Four years ago,

This was who I was.

And I hated it.

Love wasn't enough.

So when I ran from Death,

To a time before its touch,

I fled from the Flames,

And became lost and confused.

I have awakened,

And my old friend welcomes me back,

Putting in one hand the pen,

And taking the sword from the other.

And I kneel,

Thank him for returning,

Or rather for accepting my return,

And directing me once more.

I had fallen, yes,

Because I feared the Future,

But now I stand awakened,

The Flames burning throughout me.

-Zero

Arguing with a Spectre (short fiction)

      Ah look at this pathetic boy sitting at his desk in silence! Look how Love tests him so, granting him her wonderful feeling but taking away her touch! Let's go down to this poor soul to laugh at him further!

      “You there, poet-boy-thing! Why do you bother yourself so much with Love? Clearly she is only out to torment you!”

      “And who are you, spectre looming above? You laugh at me and mock my being, but you cannot understand it.”

      “Understand it? Child, I know far more than you! If I am so wrong, then why must you love three different women, and in three different ways at that? If you understand Love so well, then why has she split your affections into three impossible ways?”

      Look how he falls to silence and turns back to his desk! Look how he fails to give a reply! Look how he admits defeat! How pathetic! If I were human, I might have compassion for his troubled state! But then again, compassion is one of his flaws! It is the way in which Love seized him so powerfully! Had he steeled his little clay heart, he would not know these pains! Let this be a lesson to you!

      “Hey, fallen spectre! I know you remain! Your laughter causes for my bones to shiver! But I have laboured on as you proclaimed your own fabricated magnificence and righteousness, and now I have an answer for you!”

      “Then why wait? Go ahead and give it so I may remind you of your flawed logic!”

      “I can be nothing more or less than I am. To try to deny my passions is to try to deny a part of me. But that is not why I do not condemn Love for this which I suffer.”

      “You see, spectre, beings such as myself are a combination of the past, the present, and the potential for the future. Moreover, we know three loves, which have multiple variations. There is carnal love (or lust for those who wish to condemn basic human need). There is the poet's love, the spiritual and transcendental love. Then there is companionate love, the love between the closest of friends.”

      “Then why do you not condemn Love for your 'holy' trinity, child?”

      “Because my three loves are a testimony to my humanity. The first is a past lover, with whom I was once in the throes of passion, carnal love with a mix of companionate love. The second is a young lady of my present, with which I share some carnal desire, but it is mostly companionate with some spiritual love mixed in.”

      “And what of this third one? The one Love forced you to fall for before the others, and the one Love has not let you hold for much more than a month at a time. What of her? Who is she?”

      “The potentiality of the Future is determined by the combination of the Past and the Present. But she is exactly that! In the beginning, it was purely the love of the poet. I could barely touch her. But in the last month we were together, I learned how to hold her, and now I learn how to be friends with her!”

      “So if this is true, then why even bother with the other two? They are Love's unnecessary toying with human emotions!”

      “If anything, it is humanity toying with itself. After all, what determines the actions of Love, and the directions she takes, is human will. I chose to leave the Past behind me, just as I choose not to pursue the Present blindly (because I know we're lacking). Instead I learn from them, and learn to love in all three ways so that I can unite them in one pure and fulfilling love. And I know I might fail. I know Love can quickly turn to Pain. I know the potentiality is not the actuality (all things I'm sure you'd love to tell me). But it's worth trying, not matter what you, as a manifestation of my doubt and frustration, might say. You're not real anyways.”

-Zero

The Flighty Poet and the Lost Star (poem)

Once, there were two,

Two stories to be told.

Two that became One,

Him and her becoming 'them'.

Like any story worth telling,

This one consists of struggle,

Conflict to be resolved,

The flaws of humanity to be overcome.

It's a story about Love,

A love shared between two,

Torn into chaos,

By who they were.

He was air,

A flighty poet looking for meaning,

Searching the whole world

For something right in front of him.

She was fire,

A lost star in the cosmos,

An inferno of troubles,

An abundant courage.

The throes of passion united them,

Gave them a sincere love,

But it wasn't enough.

They became two again.

If wind stops,

It is no longer.

If fire cools,

It is no longer.

So she let him fly,

Her heat elevating him,

And he let her burn,

Even though he hated to leave.

How could their story,

How could they,

Ever overcome this distance,

And unite their two natures?

She could not ask him to stay,

For fear that he very well might.

He could not ask her to come,

For fear that she might go out.

It seemed hopeless,

As if Love was impossibility,

Pursuing the forever distant,

Instead of embracing the near.

Hours, days, weeks, months,

Would be spent thinking,

Trying to overcome these obstacles,

Half-debating just giving up.

He wanted her happy,

She wanted him happy,

Regardless of the self:

“Go on without me...”

Now, the solution,

Inherent in Love itself,

Not easily attained,

But well worth the pain.

The hotter his winds,

The higher he flew.

The more she burned,

The higher her flames.

What had once been separating

Became unifying,

Became an exuberant system

That raised them both higher than alone.

So he fanned her flames,

Gave them all the breath he could,

And she burned hotter and brighter,

Gave him all the heat she could.

The conclusion:

Love is worth the pain.

Love unites two as one.

All fly higher together.

-Zero

For the Doubtful (in Pain) - (poem)

You are capable

Of changing the clouds

To let the light

Shine down upon you.

It's hard, yes,

But so is childbirth.

Sometimes miracles need pain,

Just ask your mother.

The heartbroken lover,

Who refuses to love again,

Only suffers more and more.

Sometimes trying is less painful.

Every single wildfire

Begins with just a spark,

And every novel

With just a word.

Every addiction is beaten

One day at a time,

Every mountain is hiked

One step at a time.

So take that step,

Take those days,

Write those words,

And light those sparks!

Brave the pain of trying,

Love yourself again,

Like your mother does,

And create your miracle!

You are capable

Of changing these clouds

To let your light

Shine out from you!

-Zero

Rebellious Youth (poem)

A time of darkness,

Full of falling leaves,

Moonlight on the beaten path,

Teenagers smoking stolen cigarettes.

Meeting in a park after dark,

Sharing a drink,

Keeping an eye out for authority,

Ready to run at a moment's notice.

One kiss,

One hug,

Two holding hands,

Two becoming one.

Call it youth,

The spark and the wildfire,

A time in nostalgia,

A time of joyous darkness.

-Zero

A Word for the Lost (poem)

You may feel weak,

Broken,

Lost,

Forgotten.

You may not know

Where to go,

What to do,

Why you're here.

You may only know

Pain,

Defeat,

Confusion.

But you are not alone,

Not abandoned,

Not forgotten,

Not worthless.

When what lays in front of you

Is a valley,

A mountain,

The shadow of Death,

Remember:

Valleys are nature's cradles,

Mountains are large anthills,

And shadows require light.

Remember:

No one knows the future.

We all stumble through the dark,

Feeling around in an attempt to understand.

And remember this:

The only way you'll get anywhere

Is with one step at a time,

And you long ago learned to walk.

-Zero