He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. Nietzsche
Part 1: Nietzsche
Silence the Bells
Silence the bells
Stop the clocks
Drink the toast
To the ones we’ve lost
Struggle the days
No matter the cost.
Right the wrongs
Of yesteryear
Wish with all we have
Time would stand still.
“I have spent all my life resisting the desire to end it.”
Franz Kafka
Part 2: Kafka
The Courage to Go
I stayed
a little longer.
it felt like something
you keep nearby,
not something
you finish.
I think the finish
The end has now come
When the effort is too much
The sighs undone.
That courage to fight
To struggle, to rage…
Has fallen into silence
The silence would be welcome
If tranquility accompanied, it.
This silence doesn’t hold
It burns and consumes
The last vestiges of hope
The Dawn renews.
In this silence, this place
The eyes do close
Another hand then
turns the last page.
“It’s all one single grief…” Du Fu
Part 3: Du Fu
Intention
Her hands caressed the silken fabric,
dragged its muted light through fingertips
a gentle hue that did not hurt her eyes.
She pulled it closer, breathed its scent,
muted floral notes filled her senses.
She pressed the coolness to her cheek,
a comfort, the least that she could seek.
Water fell in one slow cascade,
darkened the cloth, and tainted peace.
In the next quiet moment, slid the gown
arms through the straps,
her head slipped through.
The fabric cascaded as she moved,
her hands swept down her length
to smooth the folds,
to set the pace.
A murmur, then a sigh.
The stage was now prepared.
She pulled her hair free let it fall behind.
She’d covered every mirror, would not look,
would not be tempted by distortion’s gaze.
The vision held within her mind would be
the final spark of energy.
Then candles, petals,
warmth began to replace the silence.
One step, then two.
The temperature changed.
The color of her dress
now deepened, stained.
She rested back, let her eyes close.
Intention took her.
Intention took away her sighs.
Self-Preservation vs. Self-Annihilation:
These poems are born from the decision to stare, unflinchingly, into the abyss. Not as an act of surrender, but as one of profound confrontation. Kafka said, “I have spent my entire life trying not to end it,” and this collection is the testament to that struggle. It is an attempt to name the singular, echoing grief Du Fu described, to take ownership of the despair that shapes the darker corridors of the psyche. By giving it form and voice, this work seeks to break its silent dominion, to hold the despair in my own hands rather than be held in its grasp.
This central, recurring ritual. The covering of mirrors becomes the ultimate metaphor for this journey. It is a rejection of the external and self-critical gaze, a final, deliberate turn inward to cling to a vision held only in the imagination.
This act claims a fragile agency, a way to meet an end; whether of a feeling, a chapter, or a life—on one’s own terms. This collection, therefore, lives in that haunting space. It is both the wound and the careful hands that tend to it, an elegy that seeks to let go by first embracing the sorrow completely. It is a ritual of release, performed through the very act of naming.
Thank you for reading, I appreciate your time. Many Blessings.
Wonderful reflection!
“She’d covered every mirror, would not look,
would not be tempted by distortion’s gaze.
The vision held within her mind would be
the final spark of energy.” 👏🏼👏🏼