Semea

I am your unrest

Mother
Weaver of my dreams
I am the son of your infelicity
I have slept through the storm
I have made peace
Within the solace of my dismality

I am the spawn of unknown life
A broken boy beaten and crucified
A bastard son composed of guilted surmise
Waiting on the sun to rise

I still feel her darkness
Dispersed between the trees
And from dusk until wake of dawn
Her songs whisk me to sleep
Her hands conjure time
The seamstress of serenity
And woven in the fabric
My disorder and her peace

I have consumed her body
Depleted what is left
I have come to find my depth
My place of solace, my place of rest

I still feel her darkness
That looms between the trees
And the winds carry her call of passage
They exhume my dismal being
They breed a man behind the madness
They've set my child free

Out from the woods, I bear your bones
We are vagrants, disseminating out to sea



Dear mother

It's been awhile since I've written
I have stood upon a precipice so steep and daunting, teasing the contrast of life and death, only to embrace the matrimony of your voice upon my trembling conscience

It's beautiful, isn't it? That the collateral disfigurement of atomic property can develop sentience to the light of which I have rendered

I have discarded the animosity that your absence had once stipulated, turning delusions of your touch into an unquantifiable fortitude

Together we are one
And if that is not beautiful, than I embrace my subjection
Because beauty possesses no skeletal properties, with the exception of your arms crossed upon your chest
Starving for and embracing our reconciliation

Mother, where has the sun gone?
Because the quiet bears no storm
Father, where has the light fled?
I sought calming, I sought warmth
But the solace I have found
An antithetical of your weight
Has dispossessed me of my matter
The collateral mass that I dilate
Because when we come to embrace our darkness
A vast expanse beyond our fault
There comes a message in the water
Of your return and of my call
The sun has risen to spite the winter
And your beauty resonates between the trees
Your sermon animated through my voice
From my infelicity
I am free

I still feel her darkness
Between the currents of the sea
Despite her beauty and her comfort
I return to restful sleep
I have abolished
The weaver of my dreams
Cleansed fully of my angst
My disorder turns to peace

I have consumed her body
Depleted what is left
I have come to find my depth
My place of solace, my place of rest

I still feel her darkness
I still feel her
I still feel her darkness
That looms between the trees
And the winds carry her call of passage
They exhume my dismal being

I am free