Tag: Hypostasis

The Storyteller

He travelled the Earth in his search for delight,
Observing the people as they tried to decide
What path would be better to lead them in life,
What fate to create for themselves under the sunlight. ǀ Fine

He carried his satchel, for that’s all he had,
As he gathered stories, travelling far.
He heard all their burdens and saw all the tears,
And took them with him as he travelled the seas.

He saw their warm smiles in moments of joy;
Their strong, joyous laughter which lit up the room.
He carried their stories to others like them,
To others so different who could understand.

Their dances, their struggles, their days in the rain,
Their castles, their cattle, their crops for the day.
At night by the fire, when songs would be sung,
The burdens—forgotten when under the stars.

Their moments together, their moments apart,
Their fights and their quarrels, their fears, their love.
These raw, unique glimpses inside their short lives
He captured and carried with him—in his heart.

He told them to others—it brought him pure joy,
For he felt alive through them, their spirit he loved.
He captured their magic and spread it around,
To bring joy to others—like the one he had found.

New people, new stories, new times which would come:
He’d meet with the magic they brought—one by one.
He travelled and listened, he travelled and told
The stories of those who were put on this Earth.

Da Capo al Fine

– Patricia

The Stranger—Not of This World

He watched the golden sunset, the light in all its might.
Oh, he wanted to touch it, for it brought him delight.
It gave him hope; he smiled, rejoicing in its warmth,
And he could find the power to face the world alone.

He breathed in the silence and melodies were born
Inside his strengthened spirit, each of them taking turns
At bringing out the colours which rested deep within,
Allowing him to smile—so peaceful, so serene!

He watched as amber spears descended towards the sea,
The seagulls—melancholic, the waves—unapologetically free.
Only the golden traces which now painted the sky
Were proof of what had happened—of worlds which unify.

He closed his eyes and waited—the sound of crashing waves—
The touch of reigning moonlight caressed his peaceful face.
He smiled as he felt it—the sunlight was enough;
Walking away from freedom, he ventured in the night.

– Patricia

The Pilgrim

His endless journey had begun
Under the reign of midnight suns.
The pilgrim set off seeking truth,
And an adventure thus ensued.

He left behind his home of light,
Forgotten were confusion, fright;
He ventured into the unknown,
Wanting to reach the ebony’s core.

Where everything that is began—
He sought to reach that mythic realm,
The centre of the universe,
His place of birth, his origins.

He passed by new-born, burning stars
And velvet black holes—growing scars,
He saw the passing meteorites
And constellations—so divine.

He felt the present and the past,
He touched the canvas of stardust,
He felt the heat: the burning suns,
The icy cold—he came undone.

He saw it all and understood
What no mere mortal ever would;
The destination of his dreams
Was, in the end, at once revealed.

He travelled to the end of all,
To the beginning, to the core,
The pilgrim who had sought the truth,
Who now eternity understood.

– Patricia

The Traveller

He had been facing icy winds
For hours, just as time stood still;
He had survived the blizzard’s cuts
Thus far—and now he had no will. ǀ Fine

The sea of snow, a deadly white,
Seemed endless as he looked around;
The sky—unseen, covered in clouds,
The ground – below, not to be found.

The howling winds, the howling wolves:
Both enemies of life they were.
No way to go or to escape,
His future: still to guess—unknown.

Defeated, tired, he gave up
And laid back in the bed of cold.
Wanting to rest a little just,
He thought of what this would unfold.

He was aware that with closed eyes,
The sleep of death would surely come.
And yet sweet dreams would wait beyond
And no more pain—all would be gone.

His eyelids fluttered one last time,
As sleep began to lower them.
All would soon end, as death arrived,
And he could hear the requiem.

He smiled as he death embraced
And travelled to the world of dreams.
His heart stood still, engulfed in ice,
As snow covered his final fears.

As he stood still, time now began
To slowly pass, while winter stayed,
And snowflakes covered every trace
Creating, thus, his hidden grave.

Another came, wanting to face
White deserts and his sealed fate,
Adventuring in deadly lands
Until it soon would be too late.

Da Capo al Fine

– Patricia