Light; the first shade of darkness.
So the devil whispers to me
in my darkest hours,
luring me to sell my soul
in exchange for
a permanent peace of mind.
And I’m almost tempted to give in.
But I’ve been there once before,
and I know it’s not a simple transaction.
It’s a prolonged contract of pure misery,
I’m already swamped in this state of agony,
But it could be the perfect distraction;
a slave for the red-headed devil
rather than being … well, I don’t know what I am
in the eyes of the black-winged demon I have loved.
I sign the contract and seal it
with the love I have made with this ugly beast.
When you exhale
and the rain comes pouring down,
then the sun shines
brighter than the darkness within you,
and the moon reflects back
the light trapped within your soul.
Invisible heavy shackles wrapped around her wrists; cuffs.
Led by the Head of the Demons himself.
She might be detained, but the chains are loose, as if she has her freedom but her body refuses to follow anyone but him.
Any physical torture? No. Any physical anything? Barely – that’s the problem, she thought.
Ever heard of someone who was held captive and wanted to beg their captor to pull that chain so they’d be closer?
This is not a case of Stockholm syndrome, for she was the one who turned herself in to sacrifice her own soul.
He took her in, thinking she could entertain him for a while, but she was persistent, and he let her go.
“Why?”, she asked, “I don’t understand”.
“And you don’t need to. All you need to do is leave. There is no place here for a good-for-nothing vessel who’s soul I have already devoured. Your role here is done.” he replied with no hesitation.
“At least a part of me resides within you, somewhere, lingering, when I physically could not.” she smiled and turned around.
Invisible cuffs, chains that extended vastly, and an unbreakable bond that she couldn’t sever, hoping one day he’d close this distance that she hated so much.
Hope? With a demon, eh? Ah, well I guess that’s my punishment for the sin I’ve committed, she thought,
I fed a demon. I fell in love with one so shamelessly. I still refuse to cut off the only thing that ties me to him. This is my atonement, living through this hell of a life without him, a million miles away.
The sadness swept in
like the wind in a lonely night,
peaking through the holes
of the broken windows
and moulded walls,
bringing in the cold and dirt.
Despair shined in
like a curious torch,
looking for treasure and goods,
but only to find ruins and unwanted fragments
of an abandoned heart.
Wrap yourself in the shadows.
Take shelter in the darkness.
Shut your eyes and cover your ears.
Let the dusky air shun away the world
that left you behind.
“I confess I do not know why, but looking at the stars always makes me dream.” – Vincent Van Gogh.
I know why, Vincent.
The stars are faraway.
Shining in the distance.
Some shine brighter than others.
Some shine before others.
Some shine all through the night.
Some fade mid-way.
Some guide humans into the right path.
Overall, they all exist. Stars exist.
You can’t always see them,
but you eventually do.
You might lose sight off them when it’s too dark.
It might be too cold, too windy, too cloudy for you to look up and gaze at the illuminating sky.
it might be time for the sun to awaken and fulfil its duty.
But you eventually meet the stars,
even if they are miles away.
Dreams are like that.
I look at the stars and I dream too, Vincent.
Because dreams are like stars.
I’d like to think that no matter how much distance I have left to reach my dreams, they still exist, just like the stars.
Sometimes it becomes all blurry and dark and I lose motivation,
but the next day, week, or month I can still get up and fight.
I can still look up at my stars and dream.
I can still gaze into my bright existing future, Vincent.
This is why, Vincent.
This is my why.
His wings held the darkest curses
Of the seven underworlds.
Six feet tall,
Ten feet wide,
And seven thick layers
Of deep ebony pennons.
A feather falling from him
Into your bare hands
Would stain your soul
Or manipulate your destiny,
That no matter how pure
You try to be, this bad luck
Will always interfere until
You accept the black mark
His feather has made on you.
You might have already judged
That he is the devil himself,
But that, he is definitely not.
He is an angel, a fallen one too.
He bore the sins of the world
With the shadows and
Deepest untold secrets
That shifted the light into coal.
His appearance is that of a Raven
In human form.
Dusky onyx coloring
His eyes, hair and clothes.
Maintaining these curses solely
For far too long
Is the job he volunteered to do.
For he loved a sinner,
A Demon, they had called her.
She bore the sins of lust and greed,
That led her to her deathbed.
To repent his sin for not falling
Earlier than he did
To save her soul,
He decided to fall
After he lost his beloved
And hold the sins of all.
But he did not know the extent
Of the darkness that lies
In this universe.
He did not know it could be
He did not understand that
Once a cup is full,
It will overflow;
His feathers started to fall off
So he could endure
The rest of the darkness.
So, fellow humans,
If you happen to encounter
A black feather
And the curse starts to run
Through your vessels,
Please remember the burdens
An angel had to handle until now
And carry it for him.
Fight the dark temptations
But please carry it for him.