Paint Me the Color of a Moonless Night

It may be that there once was a moon

Sleeping soundly in the hammock of space.

The stars may have numbered more--

Many more than I could ever comprehend.

Then again, it has been nearly an eternity since 

I painted over them, blotting them out,

And making them disappear from existence.

I reach into the void and unfurl my fist

To stop Father Time dead in his tracks.

I command the sky to descend like a shroud

Over Mother Earth's cold, colorless face.

I paint with one color--

Only one color, as all others are meaningless:

That color, that solitude is everything I lust for.

The color of a moonless, starless night

Clings to anything, except me.

  

Even the smallest sliver of light

Abandoned amongst the residue

Left behind by that last fleeting, faded dream

Cowering within deepest crevice of reality will meet its demise

Just like everything else that was foolish enough to reject me,

Not even those insignificant concepts

That the rest of mankind had the audacity

To try and prove legitimate:

Neither "peace"

Nor "hope"

Nor "love"

Nothing can escape my frozen grip.

To disappear altogether...of course.

Now, then: if only I could disappear too

Nothing penetrates this shell.

Nothing can invade my fortress, nor can I escape.

I swore to triumph over this universe

Saturated with deceit and ill intent.

It was pure perfection, and yet, 

I'm at a loss as to why

Wave after wave of rouge emotion comes over me,

And desperation crashes onto the shores of my conscience.

Why am I so hesitant to close the gaping hole,

Through which a torrent is flooding my entire world:

One that was built solely upon a faulty foundation of paranoia?

That flawlessly opaque cloak is about to burst at the seams.

Is there something else?

This should have been impossible, yet

If anything at all has been overlooked,

Would I then have failed?

Something still lingers:

A sensation I cannot extinguish... 

An eternally flickering sense of warmth.

Now, I understand

After treading the murky water for so long, 

I'd nearly forgotten my own soul.

That gentle strength,

Suppressed by the weight of my doubts and sorrow...

That...is me...

Engaged in battle, waging war

Against the side of myself

That only wished to survive

Afloat that viscous ocean of black ink.

As I stagger and limp towards an uncertain destiny,

I can still gaze upon my own hands and feet.

The skin on my face can still feel the itch of my own tears,

As they steadily trickle down,

Dripping from my chin.

I can still hear the echoes of my own deafening screams

As they pierce through the silence, 

Shattering each and every pathetic excuse I created;

Unraveling my intricately woven labyrinth of lies...

Once imprisoned by doubt and fear,

Anger and disdain,

Grief, solitude, and chaos,

I stare at an unfamiliar, yet refreshing sky. 

These quaint, elegant lights are the real stars that I had longed to see,

Each in the place where they belong

For all their lives,

And for many years still waiting to pass.

I am embraced by a soft, ambient glow

As the moon's silver smile

Makes way for majestic beams of radiant light.

I overflow with wonder as those once towering walls,

Constricting chains,

And binding shackles

Crumble apart into a dusty heap of debris,

Finally eroding away as mere grains of sand.

A vast ocean of wisdom springs forth

From the remains of those times housed in the distant past.

The reality I once shunned becomes nothing more

Than a collection of memories inscribed on my soul

Set aside and out of sight,

But never truly forgotten.