Thorn and Benediction

Poetry

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  • Abyssal Mirror (chant)

    Depth without dawn.
    Silence without fear
    Pressure without measure.

    In the black vault beneath all things,
    a crown of light unfolds.
    It burns. It blooms. It fades.

    As above, so below.
    As in fire, so in water.
    As in birth, so in collapse.

    A jellyfish flares
    a supernova turned inward,
    its brilliance folded,
    its name observed.

    What the stars shout,
    the deep remembers.
    What the galaxies scatter,
    the trenches keep.

    Light is a brief confession.
    Darkness the long penance

    As above, so below.
    As in ending, so in beginning.
    As in silence, so in song.

    Fediverse Reactions

  • Abyssal Zone

    Depth: 8,178 metres.
    Pressure: eight hundred times the air.
    A place without dawn,
    where light has never leaned.

    Temperature steady as grief.
    Sound moves as a thief through basalt corridors.
    The sea floor expands
    with the slow tectonic breath of the world.

    There, a body,
    soft as the thought of mercy,
    spine dissolving into translucence,
    eyes wide though no sun exists.

    The snailfish drifts, ethereal,
    its skin a blur between presence and surrender.
    It does not resist the weight,
    it becomes the weight,
    and lives.

    Pressure reigns in the kingdom of quiet.
    Every motion is a psalm,
    every current an answer
    to the gravity of creation.

    Beneath the continents’ hollowing bones,
    life exalts,
    a glass prayer
    rising through perpetual midnight.

  • Galaxy

    I rose from dust and flame.
    The cloud collapsed beneath its secret will.
    The dark bent close, and spoke my name
    and silence shattered into stars.

    The spiral of my arms uncoiled,
    each orbit bound in luminous vow.
    Billions burned, yet the form endured:
    a thought made visible,
    a wound made whole.

    I recall the shudder of first birth
    cores breaking open, gases fled,
    the molten prayer of forming worlds,
    the rain of iron, carbon, breath.

    My memory is matter.
    It drifts in veils of dust and stone.
    No instant lost.
    No stillness mute.
    All endings echo through my bone.

    I brushed against my kin
    their halos braided into mine.
    Our collisions were our covenant,
    our ruin, and our song.

    Through breaking, I became immense,
    and every scar rekindled flame.

    I cradle void between my stars,
    yet every absence hums of fire.
    The wells within my scars still ring
    with the choir of what has been.

    They drink the light,
    but not the trace.
    The hidden weight still turns in me
    unseen, unspent.

    Now stars grow old.
    Their fuel dissolves.
    Their embers fall to silence.
    My arms grow faint within their dark.

    Still I remember.
    The blaze that bore my name
    wanes, yet remains.

    And when the wells themselves fall quiet
    their last breath fading into cold
    the weave of space unbinds,
    time folds, and motion sleeps.

    Yet I persist
    folded within my own forgetting,
    the final witness of the flame.

    Though all is dark,
    I keep that first word
    the one the silence spoke
    to make me burn.