Random thought of the day…

And when somebody knows you well
Well, there’s no comfort like that
And when somebody needs you
Well, there’s no drug like that

-H Nova

Just think about it….

New Cover

So as the book started to come together and additional works were added, the cover ended up being changed. Here is the newest version…

J/H

Ascension

Ascension
by Jonas Hyde
part 7/7 of the Seraph’s Song anthology

In the end,
when the dust cleared,
all was silent,
and for the first time in fore’er,
she was revered,
for her sacrifice,
of forgoing what she feared.

Her body lay,
and I ran to her,
sickened by her death,
weeping true,
unsure of what next was too occur,
but then His words echoed from the sky,
to which I now refer.

“Sister Sera on this day,
you made me proud,
you succeeded in your task,
cleansing the world of Tempter’s darkness,
lifting the shroud,
putting man ‘fore self,
doing as you vowed.”

Just then,
as her blood consumed my hands,
a light from above filled her core,
mending her wounds,
as if He hearing my own demands
for next she started to rise toward the clouds
as if always part of His own plans.

Sister Sera then awakened,
at just that time,
and purpose of her charge,
effect of her sacrifice
offered reason and rhyme,
for I witnessed her being saved,
and the beauty of the sight was truly sublime.

Her ascension had begun,
and angel once more received her wings,
a gift pure and true,
surrendering herself,
for all slaves and kings,
she then looks at me with a smile,
and for the final time she sings.

E’ermore I shall tell the tale of Sister Sera,
and pass it on from son to son,
for I am the bard,
and this is the fable,
finally done,
of she who sung the Seraph’s Song,
she who was the chosen one.

Sacrifice

Sacrifice
by Jonas Hyde
part 6/7 of the Seraph’s Song anthology

In that moment,
time ceased,
as Tempter scoffed in pride,
at innocence before him,
ready to feast,
‘pon Sister Sera’s soul,
for he is the damned beast.

The wind swirled,
as tempest fierce and free,
torrents strong,
by cause of Tempter’s breath,
forcing our heroine to bended knee,
pity only shown,
by her offerings of a sacrificial plea.

In that pause,
I thought all was lost,
for Sister Sera had defeat in her eyes,
and temptation was strong,
He who would be crossed,
by cause of Tempter’s own deal,
she seemingly not ready to pay the final cost.

And as Tempter laughed into his victory,
I cried at her defeat,
wondering how and why,
she could give up so easily,
lost to the Tempter’s deceit,
wanting to join the fray myself,
so we could both retreat.

But ‘fore I could move,
I then saw the truth in plan,
for Sister Sera was not done,
and as Tempter lurched,
into him she ran,
sword thrust,
as then the Seraph’s Song began.

Victory next shifted,
as light pierced the dark,
Sister Sera glowing bright,
as a brilliant star,
hope and man’s final spark,
as song and steel pierced,
fore’er leaving their mark.

But As Tempter fell,
he released his own damning moan,
wounding heroine deep,
causing eternal defeat,
and tho’ Tempter was removed from throne,
Sister Sera’s final sacrifice,
offered man salvation at the cost of her own.

The Battle and the Bard

The Battle and the Bard
by Jonas Hyde
part 5/7 of the Seraph’s Song anthology

In the twilight,
of battle’s eve,
I came ‘pon Sister Sera,
as any bard would,
ready to receive,
her tale and fate,
so her story would not be lost to the sea.

That night she spoke,
her voice harmonic and pure,
of He who gave her strength,
of her charge,
to defeat Tempter sure,
to end the world of eternal grim,
to offer salvation e’ermore.

I cried as she wept,
of man’s failing hope,
in self and virtue,
of love and He,
not realizing the scope,
of the test ‘pon her feet,
unsure if I could cope.

Yet this fable is not about me,
and the next day,
Sister Sera set out to battle demons seven,
on the wings of Seraph’s Song,
fear held at bay,
silence in solitude,
leaving me ‘lone to pray.

Words alone cannot offer truth,
to the cost of battle fast,
for blood fell like rain,
as each sin fell to virtue pure,
spanning the world far and vast,
defeating each demon,
each one to the last.

And by that eve’s end,
Sister Sera stood strong and still,
atop a mountain of fiends’ flesh,
with nary a breath left within,
but having to find the will,
to push past her own torment and wounds,
to one final kill.

For the first Fallen remains,
and as she stands at his feet,
I watch from a distance,
in fear for self and her,
in fear of the world’s eternal defeat,
for on that eve and ‘pon that hill,
Sister Sera and the Tempter finally meet.

The Hunt

The Hunt
by Jonas Hyde
part 4/7 of the Seraph’s Song anthology

In truth,
the hunt started long ago,
a task taken on by hero fallen,
name now lost fore’er,
victim claimed by Tempter so,
collapse spreading darkness e’erlasting,
spanning far and low.

Yet such failure,
does Sister Sera fear not,
for her strength lies within,
in the belief in self,
not to be lured or bought,
by Tempter’s own gifts,
lessons of past learned to ne’er be forgot.

The battle ahead for our fable’s lead,
ends with Tempter true,
but starts with demons seven,
forged of separate sins,
of which Sister Sera must pursue,
or this land will be lost,
souls of men fore’er to bid adieu.

Tho’ battle there even does not end,
for demons’ followers forge an army do,
minions of the minions,
hunting the hunter,
all wanting Sister Sera defeated through and through,
as with her end,
comes damnation more than we e’er knew.

So the hunt begins,
ne’er to rest,
by star and by moon,
Sister Sera walks the lands,
searching for demons’ nest,
trials of virtue and sin,
given ‘long the way as test.

Let it be said,
even Seraph’s Song is not enough,
if soul wavers dark,
and with Sister Sera the risk is always there,
but she battles temptation tough,
e’er ready,
to deny the Tempter’s bluff.

For knowledge of sin makes Sister Sera strong,
as virtue true now courses through her veins,
awareness which leads her on task,
‘cross the world to defeat darkness’ rise,
ignoring the pains and chains,
of Tempter’s shadow,
so only virtue and light remains.

Seraph’s Song

Seraph’s Song
by Jonas Hyde
part 3/7 of the Seraph’s Song anthology

In this fable,
the question most so often ask,
what is the Seraph’s Song,
and how in tune,
would it help with Sister Sera’s task,
well the answer lies my king,
in the heart behind the soul’s mask.

For the song to be sung,
comes from within,
the stronger the fire,
the heat from the hearth,
then no matter where that soul has been,
in defeat,
shall lie opposing sin.

The melody of the tune,
is far from a grim syren’s squall,
yet just as hypnotic,
tho’ beautiful true,
inspiring even for one and all,
but damning in strength and potency,
when dealing with demon’s born of the fall.

As what is imp’s weakness,
may not be what you think,
for many imagine fire down below,
when really,
it is darkness that shrouds thick as ink,
and in that veil the Seraph’s Song,
is the only that causes wicked armors to chink.

Such a harmony,
in all its glorious power,
can simply be sung,
by one offered such gift divine,
and tho’ others oft cower,
Sister Sera,
shall bring forth demons’ final hour.

The lone question now,
after given such a gift,
is if Sister Sera is strong enough,
to resist the temptations of past,
to let her own sins drift,
forgiven e’ermore,
as she fights right and swift.

So the Seraph’s Song,
as you can see,
can shift the tides of war,
and offer hope of salvation,
to mortals all like you and me,
if wielded true by Sister Sera,
at the cost of her own immortality.

The Tempter’s Gift

The Tempter’s Gift
by Jonas Hyde

My soul is trapped in this darkness alone,
claimed merely a breath ‘pon being due.

The night mare led the carriage of my damnation,
long ‘fore my nous could prepare,
offering no chance for my ain redemption.

Eternal pain I bear,
the skin of my sin.

Can one feel sorrow,
for I so frail,
I of no wickedness?

Innocence I swear as all fiends do,
tho’ purity is a vestige currently lost to me.

Now the Tempter holds my fate,
ne’ermore to be free,
by cause of quill and blood.

Had I known better,
not to trust his serpent’s tongue?

This soul I offered as barter,
for my summer of a thousand dreams,
dreams shared with you.

O’ love is it true,
can you hear the cries of my anguish?

The suffering I can survive,
but it is the thought of you knowing the fee,
which offers true torment e’erlasting.

Tho’ as love is my sin,
I find refuge that shalln’t e’er be purloined.

For the Tempter may lay claim to my soul,
but can ne’er pillage
the gift of my summer with you.

The Pilgrimage

The Pilgrimage
by Jonas Hyde
part 2/7 of the Seraph’s Song anthology

In solitaire,
our seraph Sera lived in uncertainty,
walking this world alone,
shunned from He she wanted,
while ignored by man’s fraternity,
and the passing of time,
for seemingly an eternity.

Tho’ such infinite torture,
was simply not to be,
for on one gloomy eve,
steeples that ‘fore had been e’er dark,
lit for Sera to see,
an answer finally,
to her from He.

Soul afire,
careful and cautious she stepped,
entering His house,
and on knee she bent,
waiting for the secrets He kept,
but ‘pon not hearing His voice,
rivers of blood she wept.

“O’ Father hear my pleas,”
seraph Sera begged with a shout,
and tho’ she waited hours for reply,
it was but an angel’s breath,
‘fore His words finally rang out,
“Do not cry my dear,
your love for me I do not doubt.”

Light filled her soul,
‘pon hearing His tone ring true,
and for a long while they talked,
healing the wounds of their hurt
as only Father and daughter can do,
and when her apology was complete,
she hoped her damnation was through.

“The choice is yours,”
He spoke softly next,
offering her a chance,
to do His deed,
a trial e’er so complex,
to end the Tempter’s plague,
and cleanse the world of demons’ hex.

In that moment she said yes,
and her eyes of black were torn,
in exchange for the gift of Seraph’s Song,
and tho’ angel within may have died,
it is not our place to mourn,
for on that eve,
Sister Sera was born.

Fall from Grace

Fall from Grace
by Jonas Hyde
part 1/7 of the Seraph’s Song anthology

In the beginning,
a line spoken so oft ‘fore,
yet the truth lie hidden,
on what happened the eighth day,
and since that time of yore,
as chanted near pillows of people’s,
is this seraph’s song e’vermore.

How she cries,
will make you cry,
for her loss,
her pain,
would surely die,
if it were not whispered on the ethereal winds
where fables will fore’er fly.

Many stories have been shared,
of the Tempter down,
shunned for his betrayal,
and with him,
legions of others pelted to the depths of darkened town,
like drops of sin,
as if tears from His sightless frown.

What fable oft lost since,
is of one seraph from heaven,
angel great,
who lost her wings,
not for single fault nor eleven,
as the one ‘fore her so well known,
but for exactly seven.

Now I know what thoughts you must have,
what light you would look with her ‘pon,
but judge not too quickly,
for her fall proved to be more lesson and test,
than penalty of death forgone,
as in His eye’s,
love never died on any dawn.

Veins of vice ran through her,
as tempest wind,
tho’ each balanced by virtue true,
so such was the battle for self and soul,
the eternal ebb and flow of life and sin,
a sign of humanity ‘fore man,
and proof of heavens long after faith rescind.

Seraph Sera,
of which this song was penned,
fell from grace for seven sins
long ‘fore this day
yet her tale there does not end,
for now she walks the lands,
as one among men.

Sleep Watcher

Sleep Watcher
by Jonas Hyde

Darkened room you lie,
through the veil I watch you.

Breathing soft and harmonious,
I count each swing of your pendulum.

Warmth radiates from your soul,
blanketing my own cold body.

Scent and hair lay soft ‘pon thy pillow,
entrap my heart this eve.

You sleep whilst I weep,
knowing this moment will soon end.

Hours pass by as seconds,
dripping sand into our eyes.

‘Morrow’s morn you shall rise
and I shall be alone once more.

Sleep this night through my love,
for my gaze is fixed ‘pon you.

Night Mare

Night Mare
by Jonas Hyde

Twilight steed,
with hooves of passion and fear,
she pulls the carriage of my dreams,
into the imprisoning field of torment and denial.

Stallion of my eve,
she ne’er comes ‘pon my whistle,
instead timing her gait for when my soul is weary,
shrouded in the darkness of life’s damnations.

Mare of my night,
I beg her to leave me be,
enter my dreams ne’ermore,
and release me fore’er from my eternal nightmare.

My Death

My Death
by Jonas Hyde

My Death,
I bid you hello,
welcome you to my domain,
‘fore you invite me to yours,
evermore.

Some may pray,
others may weep,
tho’ not I my friend,
those words shalln’t be whispered,
even once from my breath.

In their stead I thank you,
for not coming sooner,
for my moment,
thank you my love,
My Death.

Random thought of my day…

-Ever want to do something great?

Promotional Cover

Below is the cover draft for the promotional release of Volume One of my Selected Works. Comments/ thoughts?

So it goes…

And so will you soon I suppose… -B Joel

The ‘Moment with a Muse’ anthology is complete. On the right menu, under Pages, the first listing will have all the poems, in order. Enjoy and feel free to contact me at jonashyde [at] gmail [dot] com, or comment away.

Dream

Dream
by Jonas Hyde

Twas a dream I had of you,
which gave me hope and life anew
so place your head ‘pon the pillow,
and know I think,
on this night,
this evenfall,
of dreams you cannot deny,
for I speak to you in your sleep,
whilst my soul longs and weeps,
for you to let me in one more time,
to let me in e’ermore,
my muse,
my love,
you consume me,
make my solitude feel not so lonely,
make my anguish as fleeting,
as the moments that pass,
betwixt damnation and the edge of your starlight,
which illuminates my twilight,
but I can have you ne’ermore,
not by choice,
nor by plan,
but by cause of fear,
and pain born long ago,
so know my love,
as I dream into fore’er,
an eternity I want to sleep,
for I want not to rouse,
until I can wake,
with you.

Random thought of my day…

Twas a dream I had of you, which gave me hope and life anew.

You

You
by Jonas Hyde

My ain eyes open,
Consumed by the darkness of my solitude,
Ensnared within the shackles of my love,
In a prison of choice.

Choice,
Weigh my fate on the scales of your tide,
The heaven of your love,
The hell of your denial.

Deny me,
And you only deny your heart,
Locking it away as my soul is now,
Trapped in the tower of purgatory.

Purgatory,
I lie here alone,
Praying someday for the chance to once more,
Find solace with you.

You,
The song of my muse,
The strength of my dragonfly,
The warmth of my evening star.

The Tower

The Tower
by Jonas Hyde

T’was a note I received that evenfall,
which led me to the battlefield one final time.

Love I thought long lost,
was found confined in a tower of sorrow and pain.

For an eternity I had suffered in solitude,
wanting her touch,
a touch I thought ne’er to feel again.

The squire stood ‘fore me in silence,
head held low in respect of the legacy,
not for nations inspired,
or peoples freed,
but for his place in the web of fate,
knowing his verse in the song of our fable.

With body dripping,
victim to twilight’s raging tempest,
and knee bent in honor of love,
he waited as I unraveled the cloth parchment.

Breath escaped me as the scribblings came to life,
dancing with my hope,
rekindling the fire I thought long extinguished.

The oft-spoken prayers of my heart were answered when boy finally whispered,
‘Tis true my lord.’

So I took to steed,
and rode throughout a morn and eve twice,
to the edge of lands,
beyond any man’s imagination,
the space betwixt heaven and hell.

I stood ‘pon the cliff,
and gazed upward.

The sky spread infinite above,
calling for me to take my place,
whilst the same words,
bellowed from the eternal darkness below.

I began removing my clothes,
tearing away every fragment of life past,
for on this journey,
a man must bear his soul bare.

‘Why master,
o lord,
Why must you go?’
the squire enquired.

‘Love,’
was all I could reply,
for words further,
would only waste a moment and a breath,
rather given to her.

And with that,
I took a step,
following her into the unknown,
a journey she started so long ago.

In that instance,
I laughed,
I cried,
I lived,
I died,
I loved,
I lost.

An eternity passed,
in the blink of my eye,
and when I once more reached solid ground,
I did so in a meadow of misfortune.

It took a moment,
for my breath to be caught,
for my strength to return,
and in that pause,
the longing of my heart for hers,
led my eye to her tower.

Once composed,
I began the final leg of my passage.

Each step came with it a challenge,
be it from angel or demon,
eventually I could tell the difference no longer.

The tower I soon reached,
and quickly I caught sight of her prison,
illuminated in the darkness,
by a brilliant star.

I marveled at her beauty,
even from a distance,
for no matter time,
or pain,
or suffering,
her luminescence still pierced the grim shroud,
and gave me the hope,
the vigor,
to continue on.

So I did,
starting my ascension with a first step,
and my fall from grace with a second.

The enigma would have confused my nous if it were leading me,
but it too was left ‘pon cliff’s edge.

The pull of her soul tugged my strings,
guiding my way,
to her once more.

After a multitude of steps,
one for each moment I ever longed for her,
I came ‘pon the threshold,
the final gateway to her warmth,
to her touch.

Time ceased,
as I pressed my weight against the ethereal curtain which kept me from her
piercing the thick veil of smoke and shadows.

My heart broke tho’
at the image ‘fore me.

My love,
my muse,
lay asleep,
naked as I,
trapped within with pains of her dreams.

I had vowed she would ne’er suffer,
yet here she lay on a bed of thorns and tears,
breathing the vapors of agony and despair.

I knew in an instant what must be done,
to free her from these walls,
to give her life,
and return her hope.

With no thought of hesitation,
I took a step forward.

My heart rose,
and with each pace I could feel her warmth grow stronger.

‘Pon reaching her side,
I leaned o’er,
and held my breath.

I watched her sleep,
so I could forge a memory,
an image etched within my soul,
ne’er to be pillaged,
to last me through infinity.

With but a moment more,
‘fore my soul was soon to be claimed,
I leaned in,
placed my lips ‘pon hers,
and with a kiss,
gave her my final gust of life.

In that wink,
her eyes opened wide,
and our gazes locked.

She received my love in full remembrance,
feeling every moment I longed for her,
hearing every prayer.

With my last feat of strength,
I pulled her from the shackles of her torment,
and placed them ‘pon me,
Taking all her pain,
receiving all her anguish,
freeing her soul,
with my ain.

And for her love,
for her life,
for an eternity,
as promised long ago,
as pledged by star’s light,
to protect her fore’er ‘fore myself,
I exchanged my freedom for her own,
and shackled my soul in her stead,
in this tower of purgatory.

‘Live free my love,
and in your thoughts,
your dreams,
your prayers,
think of me,
for I shall’nt e’er forget you.’

Walk

Walk
by Jonas Hyde

The anguish swells within,
wanting,
needing a release,
I shall ne’er receive.

In solitude I find peace,
in silence I find solace,
but with your voice,
the very resonance of your breath,
my soul is poisoned.

What words must I speak,
what pleas must I beg ‘pon the shattered fragments of our past,
to make you understand?

Our love is cursed by your sin,
and no matter how I heal,
the thorns of our garden wound me e’ermore.

My happiness is not tied to the tide,
nor the phases of the moon,
but instead by each step you take away from me.

Walk,
let the wind blow at your back,
let the sun guide your path,
all I ask,
is for you to let me free,
let me be.

Longing

Longing
by Jonas Hyde

Cry for me and I will weep for you,
my love my dear.

Lust for me and I will long for you,
luminescent essence of my soul’s darkening twilight.

The passion of my love,
will not set with any falling sun.

For e’ery eve’s tide,
ushers with it a wave of need.

Can you hear my words carried on the whispered winds,
as if a seraph begging for your touch?

T’was score or more,
since I felt your love?

My timepiece is a poet’s hourglass,
dripping sands of time into fore’er.

Is this what life calls for us my dragonfly,
the everlasting anguish of our lonesome wounds?

I wish ‘pon my star,
to hear my pleas.

“Your breath is my life,
and your heart is my light.”

I utter this orison,
to any deity who would grant me you.

But the essence of my entreaty
can not pierce the fabric of my nous’ net.

Nor does it carry ‘pon the whispered winds
as ‘fore scribed.

No it simply falls,
sullen and lifeless ‘pon the earth.

Longing to be heard,
as I long for you.