Rendered in Vain
Pride, prophecy, and pyrrhic victories
This post has been updated from its original version.1
I'm perpetually inspired by duality.
I've found we construct elaborate temples to house our most dangerous desires, ignore warnings whispered by an inner voice, and we (un)willingly march towards beautiful devastation, then call it devotion.
These four poems explore the magnificent futility of love's extremes.
Here lies the territory of pyrrhic victories: connections so costly that even when we "win," we lose something essential. Yet still we pursue them, rendered both in vanity and in vain.
He met a dream
He met a dream,
an enchantress and her dark spell.
She dressed in white
brightness hiding her seeping wounds
he fell for her
laugh, the lyrics to sorrow's tune
his fate was sealed,
joy surrendered, exquisite doom
he laid alone
penning blue poems for the moon.
He met a dream
and a nightmare kissed him farewell.
For you
For you, I'd go to Hell.
With blood I'd sign my name,
I'd welcome the scorching fires
and surrender my tainted soul.
Yet somehow,
for you...
for you I'd even endure
the promise of Heaven.
"You won't", she replied.
"I'll hurt you", he whispered.
"You won't", she replied.
Both victims of promises
neither could abide,
truth became prophecy;
their shelter? denied.
They knew it
They knew it,
freedom had built a cold prison of distance.
But they submitted
to the inviting ashes,
smoke pulled their bodies
and sparks ignited at their touch.
They knew it,
their desires ablaze,
and the fire of their passion
was worth burning everything to embers.
This is another short collection of old poems I've revisited and I'm presenting them here for the first time. These poems don't offer easy answers or moral judgments—only recognition of the exquisite pain that comes when desire overrides wisdom.
I'm curious about your experiences with this. Have you ever achieved a pyrrhic victory in love—getting exactly what you wanted only to discover it wasn't what you needed? Or perhaps you recognized the warning signs and proceeded anyway?
Thank you for exploring these darker territories with me. If you want to read more, here are my previous collections:
This collection has been updated to include individual poem titles for consistency and enhanced presentation.
Every word in this hit like a bruise you didn’t know was still healing. That feeling of devotion and being drawn to "march towards beautiful devastation." Oof. You captured the ache of knowing better and still choosing the flame.
Damn, this is deep.
I haven't felt any sort of exceptional love (outside of familial) since I was 15 or so. And honestly, I'm terrified of the day I'd fall so deeply in love that I'd walk through hell for that person.