Splinter and Soul: I

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay

I had begun to pace around entranced when someone knocked on my door. Instinctively, I stood motionless observing, evaluating. Only silence filled my ears with its ceaseless chiming. I turnt my head slowly, staring blankly at the white door, as I had not completed the calibration of my eyes to my surroundings.

A red letter slid in under the door, reaching my bare wet feet. I still did not move, but rather chose to close my eyes in an attempt to hear what laid beneath the closed entrance.

Nothing moved in the misty dead of afternoon. Only the chiming of silence seemed to permeate the fabric of reality as if the very tune pronounced itself to be the principle of life.

A lie, all manners explaining how escaped me; however, it was obvious, somewhere within the composite that was me, that it was a lie. This silence was just one kind of many silences, one wrought from midnight burden musk through the arduous hand of fixed earth chokes.

Warmth dripped down my clenched fists. The crimson colour matched that one which moistened my feet. Beaten air, the flapping of heavy wings at the other side, stole my attention away from the sight of blood; furthermore, a separation, a push back from a force blew me away in place when the pressure of a body departed from solid ground in a steady jump.

Silence shifted itself upon the takeoff of that which I never saw. Turning my awareness back to my vessel, I noticed my self-induced stance exacerbation as I rigidly withheld my breath unknowingly. Inhaling, I indulged in the sweet zephyr of serenity whilst the late gold of summer glow peaked in through the cracks of the closed blinds. 

Picking up the red letter at last, ruffling waves summoned my skin to stand. With needles and pins, I tensed my back when I saw the empty script at hand.

A volcano, a choleric fire burst in coils within me. I rose and tore the door to pieces in one blow to be then startled by my own voice, which growled and roared at that which I never saw the command that I know whereto it had flown.

In the vast darkness above tarry waters, I stepped away in disgust at the cubicle illusion of the household nearing nightfall.

Silence dared to no longer chime in the bosom of darkness. The hissing whispers from no mouth now carried a distinct symphony which sequence sang of participations that, in life, I had undergone engendered by deeds of eldritch happenings. And oh! The voice of that jade alchemist! He whose lunar forging had brought the world to—

What did his forging bring the world to? And who was he whose eyes as gemstones shone sharp and cold?

Incision of Dusk Kissed Escapades

Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay

“You are one to abhor attachments that, like chains, hold you to an immutable terrain of flesh-eating corpses, yet by contradiction of your modus operandi, you launch against the Maiden of Oblivion with stark acrimony.”

~*~

“I see that being left alone with me has set your talents free. Do you enjoy what you see? Let all who have eyes to see and all ears to hear how all difference and manners come to be. Yes, I abhor her whose promise is weak, as I do loathe the haze of dormancy, yet that hardly makes me a hypocrite. You see, in my centuries alive, I have never measured progress through the eclipse and dearth of consciousness. I am the mindful memory who propels forward with sentient step, crafting jewels out of events that nothing may go to waste. I accept my responsibility toward myself, and erect pillars of serving grace. I forgo surrendering war to the deceitful bliss of forgetfulness, and embrace the shadows born from my ancient crevices.”

Ameles Potamus (Existence is her Sin)

Curse the nepenthe of thy balmy lips and goblet bittersweet.

Thy promises repulse me as do all sugary nothings.

Indolent thou flowest through the cavern of sleep,

and I cavort and carouse in my musings of befouling thee.

Wretched! Blasphemous!

Assassin of all triumph that has ever come to be!

Thee I exile by the very word

which breathed thee absurd and serene!

I deny thy power in the stretching sails

of a soul and songbird by art of ravenous will,

and dethrone the silent terror of the aeons at thy feet.

Grace my ears with the canticle of thy dead screams

as I hail with pandimensional fury

to the rise of Mnemosyne!

Vining of Sore Eyes Past Hours of Mortal Chores

“You can sleep”, common sense has it out for me. As if I was unaware of the various plays I inflict upon myself!

“I know”, I lay back as I wait for a follow up which does not come. It knows that I know that it knows there is no definite reason as to why any creature would choose to inflame the fires in the pits of impious thoughts.

Ever since I filled the air with smoke for the hissing tongued man in ragged green-grey clothes, the world became a maze-like box. These walls are not as solid as they seem, I know. And the man must know that I know and will continue to find more nuances in the days to come.

Blessed be the fiend who hosts the venom of newfound hope! Let him work miracles if his name glistens in manners most favourable.

“Again, you can sleep,” common sense returns with visions of enticing shores.

“I would tell you to shut up, but I like you too much”, I sigh as I try to recall where I last saw my socks, “Twenty-four hours are not enough for all the hellish crevices I wish to explore”.

Echoing Key

The wind stretches the sails of remnants indelible,

a memory that resounds

across the anteroom of vaulted Darkness

which very blackness the chasm made light to defile

the awake slumbering of the quilted lamps.

And the question still stands,

Is it a memory

or a vague dream toiling its way to life?

Pearl of Sane Madness

Image by Rujhan Basir from Pixabay

In the night’s Plutonian rendition

of water warm and subtle might,

the Silver Lady of the Sky

didst away the ghosts

of past thoughts and spider-webs

of human bejewelled lore.

She soaked herself

in through the guise

of noon gold and rainbow cross,

and oozed from every pore

to purify the pools

with the reflection of Soul.

And I knew, and she bespoke,

“Carouse in the essence

of sweet and tender storm,

and leave no cemetery unturnt

that thou may’st draw deeper

into the mysteries openly veiled

without being swayed

by the dozen semblances

which I have bore

froms drops to streams of frailty

which bedrock is the will

to stand strong.

Umbra & the First General of the Cavalry – Imperial Ball (III)

Umbra: Logos! Come and dance with us.

Logos: I am fine, thank you.

Core: Oh, come on! I’ll teach you some moves.

*silence*

Logos: Umbra, is she staying long?

Umbra: Core is part of our family. She’ll stay forever with us.

*silence*

Umbra: What’s wrong? You need Core for a balanced forefront. The army needs you both.

Logos: I know… but she’s so *looks at Core who in turn looks at him glistening with joy* moist… and sweet.

Core: *bursts into laughter* I know, right! Everything that you are not. We’ll make such a great team.

Logos: *grits his teeth as he glares at Umbra* So, Core… uhm… what are those moves you wanted to teach me?

Umbra: *giggles and pats Logos’ shoulder* Good general, good general.

Love’s Flatline

Image by Karolina Grabowska from Pixabay

Science cannot explain

the transient rising of the blood wave,

or heartbeat knives as cyanide

taking turns to carve their signature

in soul stone at the sun’s maiden rays.

It was the fluorescence.

It was the song of consciousness –

silken, madness and reverie-begotten.

It was the heart beyond the thresholds of haze

and the creed of the adrift and forgotten.

It was the dual scaled, mercurial, and golden threads

in amphorae that pour the light which shadows shrieked to consolidate.

And science cannot explain the keys bronzed by the path foreseen

in the soil from which branches the willow tree.

At the Crossroads of Primordial Prerogative

Image by Yakir from Pixabay

Amidst the ruins of an age dome

‘tween the grossest lordship of shapes most atrocious

and the boundless no-thing pre times immemorial,

let the ghastly, dreadful bump in the day

of insidious accounts in display

rot away and be cleansed in the pyre of black flames

which underlie the nature of supposed verity.

At the crossroads,

now awaken the symbolic coiler of Abyssinian currents,

anticipating skilful will and word and concept spoken.

At the crossroads,

now blink and consolidate the vortex of sight in divine right

with the longing beating heart which has bled and wept in dire light.

Awaken, beloved, and sever the surrogate hand

of petty and presumptuous regard.

Awaken now and behold thyself with fresh insight.

~*~

Will you rise

or will you cave into

the oblivious daytime night?

Florescence

Image by Lee_seonghak from Pixabay

Coarse skinless fireflies traced the trail back

to the dwelling of the empyrean eye

which oversees all things past, present, and future alike.

It is the florescence –

the swirling sentiency unswayed by mortal screeches

sustaining pillars of self-adversity.

~*~

In the breeze lies the breath of the wisdom of antiquity.

In the breeze lies the answer to all questions accordingly.

It is the florescence –

the collector of currency in alchemy,

and the subtle link of life and balmy clarity.

“Liberation is the way!”, it tore from my throat and chest,

that if all senses obeyed one wish,

they would be exiled

through the stellar gateways of creativity.

~*~

Coarse skinless fireflies adorned the crown of night

from the cradle to the zenith,

observing the strange luminous shapes in the dark.

It was the florescence –

the crystal ally which deemed

the twin mirrors not parallel

to embark on the sail throgh

the infernal lands.

For a Ruffled Silk

Image by Peter Fischer from Pixabay

I’ve seen the deserts of life –

sear heartbeats transfixed on a dune in time.

But I know where the lost ones direct their cries.

I’ve seen the oasis give balm to the wounded and the weary,

to the queer grim outlanders defying the streams contemporary.

You, who challenged, absorbs the fumes of nightside venom tunes;

you, who burnt by the ardent sun hollow and lonesome,

can’t yet look outside the chamber of confusion; you!

Surrender to the Abyss and be transfigured in the womb

which exalts the soul by virtue of its very core.

She helps you to die to raise you stronger than before.