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cryptid poetry.

@yunekiiri.bsky.social
10 followers 2 following 21 posts

a voice in the wilderness. poetry and other musings from the mind of @kiiriyune.bsky.social

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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 30/08/2026
and 'tis always wise to seek the face of the solitary bloom, alone in barren soil for she is the portent of spring.
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 30/08/2026
when the soil is bountiful, cultivated by many hands and many hearts, only then will her delicate petals bloom. if we yearn to see her radiant smile all the more, we can only tend the soil. render it fertile and fallow, and hope the winds carry with them seeds of her arrival.
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 30/08/2026
comfort. trust. safety. no matter the name it takes, it is a gift that can never be given. a kindness that can never be forced. its rabbit heart comes out only when gently, patiently, lovingly invited.
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 10/07/2026
it is a simple thing, but it is not an easy thing, nor a swift one. I am willing to wait, but only for those who try. approach me with intentions of conquest and comfort, and you will find naught but empty woods.
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 10/07/2026
to know me, you must be me.
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 23/06/2026
there is wisdom, too in living merely by the campfires we tend, tending to its fire, our fire. and at times, 'tis wiser to find our way by the moon's light. by the twinkling stars. by the call of the owl, and the bubbling spring.
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 23/06/2026
our desires of the universe shine like torches in the night. without them, we are often blind. and yet, so fond have we become of them that we have fashioned them as our arms, the bright flames our hands. and then we wonder why all the wild things we touch always burn.
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 22/06/2026
I shall don the mantle of a saint of the unknowable, I shall stamp out any meaning you find in my chicken-scratch trails. I shall hunt and rip apart the patterns and categories your words speak of. until that very pattern of patternlessness is all that is left.
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 22/06/2026
see me with the curiosity of a newborn child and the indifference of a wizened elder. see me as everything and nothing. if you cannot see me this way, then you can never truly see me. if you cannot truly see me, then I shall toil to make you understand that truth.
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 22/06/2026
if you wish to sit with me, if you are not deterred by my bestial roar, echoing through the woods, then see me as a grain of sand that contains spiraling arms of galaxies far away. see me as a thread of wool that contains the flow of every stream. see me as the universe in a rabbit's eye.
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 22/06/2026
I am the poor man who, if you dare to lay eyes on will meet your gaze and see through it. my hand will not reach out to beg of you. my impoverishedness, my penance, my eternal charge is the most precious thing in my universe, and I guard it most covetously.
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 22/06/2026
do not watch this space. no shrine will be built here. here lie only my talon-gouges in the soft earth telling the story of a wild, wandering thing, never fulfilled, and never seeking fulfillment, and yet wandering all the same.
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 22/06/2026
in an era of excessive cultivation, of a relentless drive to control, to surmount, to overcome, to preside over, I make a vow of being. of silence. of ascetic acceptance of what is. of ritual, continual, fiery, rapturous, obliteration again and again.
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 21/06/2026
oh, the folly of asking the rabbit to explain why she fears the fox her eyes behold.
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 18/06/2026
that some of the eyes may see how the mask is a shield a ward against immobilizing eyes. that they might see my dance not as a show, but an invitation. an outstretched hand in the night. will you dance together with me, around the fire under the night sky?
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 18/06/2026
but it is an age of eyes, not of dancers. and so, for so many nights under the stars, I spend dancing alone. I adorn skull masks of charred bone and wear hides of blackest fur so the eyes will fear me, an evil thing in the night. but my heart ever yearns that some may see past my guise. (...)
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 18/06/2026
for the dance of the one in chains is a dance all the same, and it must ever go on, and on, and on. I yearn, oh, how I long, for an age of dancers. where my dance, my eternal charge, is but one of many. not an aberration to be feared, nor a spectacle to be adorned, but of simply, communion. (...)
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 18/06/2026
I trip, I fall, my movements no longer my own offering alone. voices rise in alarm, a cacophony of grasping hands reaching to catch me as I fall. gentle voices speak in calming tones: "are you okay?" no answer passes my lips, but the chains still rustle and pull at my flowing limbs. (...)
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 18/06/2026
preserved in a photograph, dressed in floodlights, held securely in a jeweled display case. and when I seek to continue the dance when my limbs seek to flow through this dance of life, this eternal, ephemeral offering, the chains wrest at me. (...)
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 18/06/2026
what I fear most of all is not their judgment but their gratitude. as so easily does it pass from their lips, so silently, too, do its chains slither around my arms and legs. those eyes, those chains, seek to capture. to hold me in that perfect moment, my body still, forever. (...)
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cryptid poetry. @yunekiiri.bsky.social · 18/06/2026
when I dance in the woods I am ever wary of eyes in the trees. it is an age of eyes, after all. eyes that evaluate, eyes that remember, that ever seek to sort all they see. wheat and chaff, gold and loam, light and dark. (...)
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