In Murmuriam

By Dallas J. Herndon

 

They say that when we die

Our body becomes one with the land,

And our soul becomes a transient canvas

Upon which the masses

Exalt a eulogy of memories,

For the elevation of our ashes

 

The world watched as I saw you perish,

And yet I still cannot say

Whether you, or the world first arrived at the departure

For the crowds are all too garish,

And so swift to cherish

While I alone remain

An unwelcome blemish in your fame

 

They would take the bounty,

And depose the rest,

As I try muster the courage

To say the words that were never said,

And breathe a breath for the dead

 

And now, I am rendered to the end

A hollow homage of a corpse,

With nothing but a feeble murmur left to send

As they hold you like a bomb,

I will sing you like the song,

Like the fleeting silence we knew in our youth,

Buried and exhumed,

For a night like this.

Astarmagtisms

By Dallas J. Herndon

 

They say that when the sun retreats

And day returns to night

That the stars awaken from their slumber

Unveiling the cosmos in its celestial light

 

But the longer I live, and the longer I stay

I have become of a different mind

As I cast my gaze upon the vastness of a valley

And a city so unbelievably bright

 

For indeed, the stars that once seemed so

Nearly always recede

And although the sky remains

The ghastly clouds alone

Form something of a cosmic refrain

 

In return, what I see

Can only be described as a bright, white ocean

As if these tiny, white lights

Are a sea of stars

Endlessly chasing the edges of the valley

In every direction

Gleefully dancing and prancing

Upon the blackness of all above, and all below

 

I’ve heard of a peculiar distortion

That betrays our true sight

Known to thrive on the blinding brightness

When surrounded by a dark, lonely night

 

Perhaps this be a new, strange phenomenon

But of a similar nature, I daresay

One that brings not only a change of sight

But also reveals the chilling truth

Of dazzling stars, that scheme and betray

Our own sense of right

Living for Me

By Dallas J. Herndon

 

Stay true to you

And live your life, through and through

Because one day, you too will perish

Best to gain all the experiences to cherish

 

And so I live for me, not for you

Not because of oblivion, or bliss

But because I must confess

That I fear my image would turn to ash

Before my fire truly burns

 

World, be warned

I declare this my fate

No matter how trying,

Or how far of an arrival too late

 

For I have seen what happens

To those with glaring, judging eyes

That turn to stone,

Shadow and bone,

And my greatest fear of all

Is that one day, my ashes

Will show that I perished,

Memories, lost to the void of time,

Barren and all alone.

Like a Midsummer Spring

By Dallas J. Herndon

 

Sitting by my window, I hear

Tiny sparks of sound

Drops of rain, I fear

Ends unbound

 

Growing near, I feel

Scorching chills of a gentle breeze

Enticing my will

My fate all but sealed

 

Journey forth, I say thus

Intrigued by this phenomenon 

Before I fade to rust

Running, and run again

Seeing all that is not now,

But rather always was

 

A bizarre feeling, to say the least

Lest my senses betray me

Like a midsummer storm

Dark, clouded fissures break the sky

As if from an eruption of haze and ash

 

Tiny pedals, casually dancing in the wind

As if from the leaves that autumn sends

 

And yet now, it all recedes

Passersby and the sky’s facely gleam

Receding away in every direction

Looking around me, I see a dark world of haze and ash

And yet I begin to realize

All those things

That always were, and have always been

Behind the veil of nature’s cloaks and daggers

Transformed through the sheer beauty 

Of this primordial storm

Like a midsummer spring

(Winter) Valley

By Dallas J. Herndon

 

Descending, ever downwards

Upon the recurring gaze

A plane emerges

From the elevation in the distance

Another soon follows

Perfectly placed;

Never too far, or too near

Always two; 

No more, no less.

 

The clouds materialize 

The pale blue sky

Gently dancing, ever revolving 

Upon the crest lands, 

Seemingly sealed within the world

 

Cascading forms

Surround me

Glistened in gleaming white

As if the beyond

Is wholly irrelevant

 

And there, upon it all

I finally see a world;

One that I was never given,

Yet always meant to be

A valley,

Timeless,

In a world of time.

All the Lives We Leave Behind

By Dallas J. Herndon

 

I found myself thinking

A mere remembrance ago

About a reflection,

Though long lost

But that now troubles me so

 

The thought began as one

As one became two

And two, before I knew it,

Became an endless stream

Placed upon the mortal fabric,

A world of living seams

 

Some seams are all showing,

Others not yet so

But this I have discovered;

There are some we’ll never know.

 

These seams are the lives

Of those we leave behind

Some for good, others less so

But all persisting

Unto the eternal stream

That forms the now

Of what may yet become.

 

So when we are upon it all,

When light becomes dark,

Let us recall 

That truth holds not one life,

But an infinite universe 

Contained within them all.  

 

Such are the lives we leave behind

The metaverse of living seams

Where will they go now, I wonder?,

Remains to be seen.

Figments of a Forbidden World

By Dallas J. Herndon

 

There I was

At that place

Transfixed in the spark

Of all the seemly things

That once seemed so

 

Now, here I am

Staring at that thing

Mortified by the mocking shroud

Of the place that now

I realize I could never really go

 

Where is it now, I wonder?

Amongst the clouds

A single drop of rain

Longing for a return

To this ephemeral plane?

 

No, it is not

It is in my mind

As it always was

And will forever be

Until I find that silence

Releasing me from all that becomes

 

But in the distance, there is another

A single fragment of something new

Not as before, or what is

But as what will be

My quiet little spark 

In the midst of the night

 

Such are the bygones

Of my twisted fate

Ever longing, yet never to be

Figments of a forbidden world

Theory of a Third Eye

By Dallas J. Herndon

 

I have this theory

Of an eye unknown to most

Possessed by even fewer

In a world of madness.

 

But there are those

Few among the many

That have this eye

Revealing what is hidden to most

A hidden beauty, of a kind

Trapped amongst the endless dark

And amongst all those

Rendered blind in all but sight alone.

 

Yet I wonder if this eye is more like a curse, of a kind

A twisted, double-edged sword

For we too can see the timeless madness

That so often smothers the beauty

To humankind’s event horizon

Darkness without end.

 

Humanity, in all its glory

Cannot fathom this eye

Tis perhaps the one treasure

That remains unconquerable 

To those that fear the unknown

Alas, the saying therefore remains ever true;

Ignorance is bliss.

 

But there is one that I have looked upon

A spark of white in black

That feels as I feel

Sees as I see

All the hidden beauty in the midst of night

Shall they do as I have done, I wonder

And watch the world burn

Or will they use this eye

In futile attempts to tame the madness?

 

Perhaps that is the real truth to it all

To this eye and world of black

That the battle is really won

Not amongst the many, but amongst the few

Paragons of a third eye

Appearing once every age

To remember our dark hearts of who we really are.