He Who Fights Monsters

I won’t survive this dark night’s lunacy.
Waves smash against the fortress of my mind
with an endless ebb and flow of misery—
I’m drowning in a Labyrinth I designed.

No compass, satnav, Valium can save
me here, where even stars are scared to shine.
To a shifting siren’s song I am enslaved,
drawn down beyond the high-tide line.

Battered by winds strong as Minotaurs
my hull is breached beyond my skill to caulk.
I drift on wings of wax, then on all fours
crash land where none but monsters walk.

Light glints on broken glass, at last I see!
There’s no abyss but this one in me.

first published at Poetry Nook, September 2019

Into the Wind

Night reigns in this abyss.
No light. All is dark, all dead.
I sit and mourn for moments
lost. The skull and bones
lie crossed.

I board a ship and sail away –
bound for freedom; to fly
the eagle’s byways, soar
the wind’s roar, sleep the steely night
safe from Winter’s hoar.

A mother cries, a baby dies;
I ride skies on halcyon wings,
feathered wings of days now passed.
On the wind, I glide; blasting by,
fading fast.

Ryan Stone

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He Who Fights Monsters

I won’t survive this dark night’s lunar sea.
Waves crash against the fortress of my mind.
An endless ebb and flow of misery
Has seeped into the Labyrinth I designed.

No atlas, compass, sextant can give aid
In evil vaults where stars are scared to shine.
My tears and screams, once birthed, so quickly fade—
To drown with hope beyond the high-tide line.

I’ve raced before a tempest wind so long,
My hull is breached beyond my skill to caulk.
No dawn for me, I chase a siren’s song
To straits so dire that all but monsters balk.

On feathered wings of wax at last I see—
There is no abyss but the one in me.

Ryan Stone

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