The sky isn’t always blue. Sometimes it bleeds orange, or red with shame. The moon is not always white, but marooned in haze— an infant blinking toward too much light, shrinking from a mother’s silhouette. Kings don’t always stand bright and grand. Sometimes they crawl, bellies scraped by stone, blood caked to their palms, shrapnel freckling them where suffering lands hardest. Who guaranteed sunrise? The beetle cracks, spine to carbon, fuel for the last clatter of flame that washes over us like water not always wet. Satellites dim, flat against the ruined sky. Static above shuts off when God clicks the remote. Each prophet kneels in the dark, proved wrong. Their books are nothing but faded sap and machine-oil, pages thinner than their faith. What is truth now? Things don’t circle back, don’t bloom again, at least not forever. Even the thirst runs dry, when archetypes become hollow goblets, Theseus stumbling desperate in the labyrinth, string tied to no exit, no monster, just a dead end. Jesus offstage, slips and falls— no rescue. as saint and sinner take their bows. Stage lights off, curtains drawn, no applause, no chorus. The emptiness proves the verdict. So, when the hunger ends and the spark gutters, bells swing only silence. What remains? Every prayer, every poem, and each hope a check that bounced. And in this gray hour, stripped and uncolored, I remember: Of all the things that unravel: sky, moon, histories that failed— It was love that kept its bend. That, at least, was always only; love— mine and true, until the very end.
This poem is a descent through cosmic disillusionment that gradually tightens into something intimate and painfully human. You dismantle the symbols cultures rely on—sky, moon, kings, prophets, archetypes, gods, revealing them as fragile and fallible, until every cosmic and mythic certainty collapses into gray emptiness. Yet in that ruin, the final turn to love becomes the poem’s anchor, the one truth that does not break. The contrast between the apocalyptic unraveling and that quiet, unwavering human core gives the piece its emotional weight.
What a trip to the brink and then that beautiful turn at the end. All the passion of true insight. I felt it all the way from genuine exasperation to the fullness of love’s truth.
Actually, Theseus stumbling desperately was me trying the write the last few days after my weed ran out haha
BTW I read your poem today; it slaps hard. I put a pin on it because I didn't finish reading the commentary, but later today I'll find time to finish it and comment+share.
This poem is a descent through cosmic disillusionment that gradually tightens into something intimate and painfully human. You dismantle the symbols cultures rely on—sky, moon, kings, prophets, archetypes, gods, revealing them as fragile and fallible, until every cosmic and mythic certainty collapses into gray emptiness. Yet in that ruin, the final turn to love becomes the poem’s anchor, the one truth that does not break. The contrast between the apocalyptic unraveling and that quiet, unwavering human core gives the piece its emotional weight.
Thank you once again for your breakdown and like Dipti. I appreciate you!
Banger of an ending on this one, man.
Thank you so much, bro! Always means a lot 🙏
Masterful poem
Thank you, Ezra! 🙏
“ Every prayer, every poem, every story
and each hope a check that bounced.”
Lol that part made me laugh. Well written. Thanks for sharing.
😁 Thanks for reading, bro!
LOVED the image you painted of Theseus in the labyrinth!! Sooo good!
What a trip to the brink and then that beautiful turn at the end. All the passion of true insight. I felt it all the way from genuine exasperation to the fullness of love’s truth.
Appreciate you, Ryan! Hope everything is moving along in a positive direction, man. Really want to see you finish those Cantos.
Me too, brother. Thank you. I’ll be ready soon. It’s time to get back into the good fight
Heartbreakingly beautiful.
🥹 Thank you !
Theseus stumbling desperate is badass. i might have to start smoking bowls again (i read your secrets).
Actually, Theseus stumbling desperately was me trying the write the last few days after my weed ran out haha
BTW I read your poem today; it slaps hard. I put a pin on it because I didn't finish reading the commentary, but later today I'll find time to finish it and comment+share.
lol oh well maybe i’ll stay off the 🍃 after all
tyvm kind sir