The Big Rapture


Wonderful work from an old Friend and colleague. This one is from the album, the collection called “The Epiphany”.


A slow beginning; Spark the imagination
Am I just dreaming? Is this truly our salvation?

We’re flying faster
With every 
Going into the Cosmos castle
Through atmosphere removed

Countless stars are shining
Pouring their essence on me
We are taking in everything
Waiting for the Heavenly

All the 
Through my eyes
You’re begging
These are not lies

Thanking you, breathless
So ready for that moment
I’m overjoyed and restless
Feeling it
             I’m open
So it comes surging in
The feeling 
of the whole


Through me

Continued Survival

Hi Everyone-who-reads-this,

Here is a fresh poem, written yesterday. It is inspired by a story that a colleague of mine wrote. Have fun figuring it out! 😉

I would like to hear your thoughts on it. What do you think it’s about?

Don’t forget to like, comment, and share!

Mary Matshine


Architect of the Universe by DGrayFox.

Searching. Debris flying about.
The meaning is not
Can you feel them?

Sparks trail their ends, mist sprouts the thoughts, eyes
Black holes.
It's not the matter — it is Them.

Waiting. As if we are the ones
To pull the plug.
Universe abound

Vermilion stars glaring
At us.
We are alive?

Never mind.




Piercing the darkness with his swirling sword,

ha awoke a glimmer of Hope.

Together with Yearning inside, remembered the

melody of a time when Time stood still.


Ancient Chorus,

an eternal aria,

Choir of Angels,

the greatest Opera:

Hear the Harp —

as it plucks,

and it strums, strums, strums

in a lyrical delight.

Keeping time, time, time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme.¹

Hear the Chimes —

as they ring, ring, ring,

announcing the spring

in a glory of the night,

in a holy, choral glory of the night.

Hear the Glockenspiel —

it thrills in a tinkle,

as it twinkles the sparks,

sparks, sparks, sparks,

as it tinkles and it twinkles

in the enlightened, shining beauty of the dark.

Hear the Bassoon —

glorious in tune,

that gentle, vocal monsoon,

as it moans, moans, moans

in a guttural, orotund groan,

calling upon the white, laden Moon,

and a Star… star, star, star…

Penetrating the atmosphere with sound —

that harmonious , profound orchestra —

on the bottom of the down,

down, down, down.

Keeping time, time, time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme.

Everlasting in the sky:

a Song of Winds,

the Melody carried

on celestial Wings…


… enveloping the fury,

taking over the Steed,

and He felt the Love of One

as the horn broke and fell,

his colors faded with the wind,

he shrunk and swayed. Standing still —

back on the undulating pastures — a Horse

with no wings, among many others.

Loving and calm.

Grazing the fragrant grass,

listening for a river in the distance.


¹Remembering the Greats: Edgar Allan Poe, The Bells.




In a dim hour of Dusk

the stroke of furies broke afar.

Once chained by the strength of winds,

with intense yearning Steed restrained,

this instant was the victim of the dark.


Led by a blind faith,

greed of a flame and pride,

shameless; wishing for the brake of Dawn —

he was summoned by a false sky

into Twilight:

Where smoking wraiths sway,

where the lightning of sin strikes aloud,

where temperance is gone and wisdom fades,

where the hope even in dreams cannot be found.

There came the horned emperor,

on the wings of evil beings.


The regime of Underheaven keeps world’s lies

poisoning the soul of the Earth child.

Strews turmoil, pain, fear and war…

Until Death takes home

tormented core of the mankind.


But the Death is not there, in the fright horizon —

she seeks serenity, peace and Eden.

Yearns for pure mind and a Beginning in the End.

She — the queen with no judgment, the sister of Life,

this night was deterred by thunder.

Electric needles falling on the entrance;

she can’t get near the breaking being,

so calls for help the eternal kin:

“Father — transcendent peace, Endless Love!

Dear brother — short-lived idyll tortured by darkness,

enlightened by mind!

Seize the unseenable dusk,

obliterate dark and darnel!

Let us offer serenity and paradise!”

The answer fell carried by winds of silence;

two speak as one:

“The trial stays with he who pursues

our scopes before time.”


Verdict echoes with truth. The battle lasts now.


Shimmering seeker of the Universe

strikes the bottom with hooves.


With a force of furious despair,

maelstrom of sharp crest,

with weapons of dreams,

colors of fugacious spring —

the massive Steed shields.


Whirlpool of evil — masked with mirrors.


With rage of fury,

bursting jolt,

burning current,

with loathing terror-woven —

hails the ghastly collapse.


Over the meadow of the Mythical Steed,

a Star has now ceased…


…in the midst of Heavens It beholds:

Where smoking wraiths sway,

where the lightning of sin strikes aloud,

where temperance is gone and wisdom fades,

where the hope even in dreams cannot be found…


Contemplation (Pastures of the Universe)

unicorn universe

This damp, drizzly morning

I saw a wing of a butterfly —

gentle, little… blue and sprinkled.

I felt a whiff of zephyr —

light, fragrant… undulating.

None can fly close to the cloudy Sky.


Suspicious Sun yearns for the empyrean,

raising its head and grinning towards a

savory Pasture.

The prickle of a green hornet seems terrifying,

It buzzes around, hums, breathes deeply and wonders

why won’t I get out of Its way.

But It cannot reach the topmost needle of a conifer.


Brisk eve hints of rime.

A little finch is sleeping on a stump;

I approach steadily.

The horn doesn’t frighten It,

neither does my black stare.

Ash and autumn cover that small body;

the wings carry It to the spring and back —

unable to gain height.


I became a birdwatcher today:

magical crow, wise and beaky raven,

surplus magpie, sparrow-hawk ready to hunt,

euphonious nightingale, humorous mockingbird,

friendly sparrow, a powerful wren…

At nightfall the Moon is white.

I’m welcoming it and pondering still:

Who’s Wings lead to the Pastures of the Universe?


Hopelessness (Cosmic Steed)

Uvijeni rog

Photo taken from Phot Photo Photo From:; made by Dave Bowman.

Over there, at the bottom of a Star

The Eyes have hidden a secret.

Answer fell with a gleam of the night.

My pinnacle is farther still, I cannot see its end in front of me;

If I had Wings I would know the way back.


Sunset in a Red Cave isn’t capable of imagining.

Sparks of Universe at the bottom of the ocean. Hard catch.

Caped failure and judgment. The world is too small for us;

to hide a secret is hard. No one can do that beside the Eyes and a hair.


Tails are smacking the dots in flight,

vapor is coming out of me.

Hooves are breaking the stone,

yet the water is rigid, piercing the skin.

The Yellow Moon sings with a whisper,

I’m neighing along with its voice.

Twisted horn sends a thought of home to the wind:

Lend me a safe journey at least.

With Heaven’s Wings I’m swimming on dry land.

Such is my destiny. I remain forever a Steed.

Without Feathers. The one who cries a Cosmic war.

The one who doesn’t bleed.