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 we designed.

No atlas, compass, sextant can give aid
In evil vaults where stars are loath 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, all but monsters balk.

On feathered wings of wax at last I see—
There’s no abyss except the one in me.

Ryan Stone

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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

image