If my love is high, and I am down,

Does this mean I have reaped or sown?

 

My heart aches, its pulse ever-quickening,

The pain sears but for a moment.

Then it grows silent and cold -- yearning,

The crimson flows no more, it gives no counts.

 

But this is not death, the spirit resides,

Though the body makes no moves.

The eyes blink and do not hide,

Maybe the soul has hit a groove.

 

Surely something can pull them back,

Was something lost and sunk to the depths?

Only that which you hold but never keep track,

That which makes you yearn for death.

 

For this solemn identity is around every day,

But for you, it will never stay

Stars Align, Form signs

Defining, what is benign

And what is malign

 

The divine assigns

No decline nor resign

You become inclined.

 

We can redefine

Combine, Entwine, enshrine or

Repine and confine

 

Refine yours and mine

Perhaps we are not destined

By our assigned sign

 

Relax and recline

Like the stars in the divine

And we can just shine

We stand a mess

our chests pried open

and filled with grief.

 

Put on your dress

though your heart is barren

this feeling will be brief.

 

say what you bless

give two gold to Charon,

and sigh your relief.

I stand on a skyscraper

overlooking the valley of a downtown street.

Below the streetlights like stars,

and the headlights – comets

 shoot over black pavement,

 

then fade,

swallowed as if by a black hole,

until we are all engulfed,

and I hear a sweet voice:

Why do you look down on me, human?

 

 

“Because I am thinking of jumping, of becoming one with you,”

I answer, sounding sure of myself.

You wish to embrace me ahead of your time?

“I want to end it in my prime!”

I lie; I feel my life has been wasted.

 

Regardless of what you have failed to accomplished,

it says, again,

This life isn’t yours to take.

You have so much more to give.

I can’t allow you to take it.

 

The blackness fades

and I am no longer on the ledge

Now I am among the stars and comets

and I feel more at ease.

I sit at a desk, press the keys:

clickity-clackity the keys go as they touch down,

firing digital code through the control switch

along the cable to the motherboard,

 

the ones and zeros transformed to hexadecimal,

to Java, C, HTML: source code.

That appears on screen as alpha-numericals

in lines of hundreds of thousands,

 

the Kernal of code, embryo

that begins to breathe,

to speak,

its life blossoming.

The agents of annihilation

once assembled to attain

the ancient artifacts:

Amenhotep’s head,

Sloane’s Astrolabe,

Ashurbanipal’s Palace panels,

Athenian Amphorae,

and the accumulated appellations

of the autochthonous,

against the advice of advocates.

 

Weapons marked blue; slashing

Weapons marked green; stabbing

Weapons marked red; heavy weapons

 

Zero points for headshots

Zero points for hands

Zero points for grounded feet

One point for arm; lost

One point for leg; lost

One heavy stab breaks armor

Two points for torso

Two points for victory

Two heavy hits break shields

 

Glaives win with teamwork

Teamwork beats glaive

Shields work with small weapons

Large weapons break shields

Bows benefit with long range

Range(close) breaks bows