The Infinite Starr

poetry

  • Borrowed Things

    Maybe it is just boredom that has brought me here, tired of human suffering. Not because suffering is unusual. Because it repeats itself with remarkable dedication. I sat watching people today and couldn’t decide what they were actually chasing. A better job. A bigger house. Someone else’s attention. An argument they intended to win before…

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  • The Reckoning of the Shadows

    There comes a moment when the shadows stop stretching. When they no longer have corners to cling to. When the walls they once hid behind begin to glow from the inside. No announcement is made. No trumpet sounds. It simply begins. The Reckoning is not loud at first.It is subtle.A crack in the story someone…

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  • Zero O’Clock at the Blood Moon Door

    There we are. Standing at the door. Zero o’clock. No countdown. No drumroll. Just that quiet hum that happens when time folds in on itself and says, This is it. Everything you were supposed to fix by now is either fixed… or fossilized.Every apology you meant to make either found its way out of your…

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  • Confessions of the Demon Who Woke the Angel

    I did not arrive with horns and fire. I arrived with questions. That is how it always begins. Not temptation. Awareness. Once consciousness switches on, life stops being entertaining. Not because the world changes, but because the illusion collapses. Try watching a movie after that. You cannot sit still inside the story anymore. You see…

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  • The Lighthouse Diaries — Part IV: The Beacon and the Broken

    You don’t choose who arrives at your shoreline.The lost come because the light doesn’t lie. Some wander in because they’re trying to outrun their own storms.Some wash up exhausted, not sure how they survived the waves.Some arrive because something in them recognizes something in you. But you learn, sooner or later, that not everyone who…

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  • The Law of Responsibility

    After the word was spoken, the universe answered back. It was not thunder. No choir. The reply arrived like dew on iron, quiet enough to miss if you rush, heavy enough to bend the grass when you finally look. The answer didn’t argue. It mirrored. And in that mirror I saw every shape my breath…

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  • The Silence That Learned To Speak Itself Into Form

    Nothing— Not the kind that means absence, but the kind that trembles with everything that has not yet chosen a shape. A silence so full it feels like the inhale before a universe decides whether or not it wants to be born. I wait for the thought to arrive, but the waiting feels strange now.…

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  • The Sound Between Words

    Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil—that’s what someone once said, wasn’t it?But who decides which is which?The whisper between light and shadowis thinner than breath,and yet the whole world trembles on it. A chance encounter—not with what is,but with what we believe it to be.Every thought a vibration,every word a stone dropped…

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  • The Witch’s Warning

    What was mine but taken from me shall be returned.One. Two. Three.The staff strikes the earth. The sound cracks through the air like thunder splitting the bones of silence. The old spirits stir. Dust rises. The world tilts to listen. Hear this:What is mine is not yours.What you took in greed or deceit, what you…

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  • The Bed I Made

    This is my voice—the one you didn’t want to hear. The one you said tore holes in your calm, wounded your ego (you called it your heart), and echoed too close to your truth. I am the voice you silenced while pretending to listen, the one that whispered wake up while you slept soundly in…

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