Every time I look outside myself, there is nothing. The night scowls — harsh shadows glare from every edgy corner and crevasse, bluntly isolating themselves from the parking lot’s cold light. My humming fills the air of this witching hour whilst my eyes imbibe from the hollow calmness. I roam awake in the sleeping field of humanity, now and again waltzing in the absurdity of my surroundings. These dreams are shards of irrationality. The loftiest reason springs from the cradle of darkness with the germinating seed of a bleeding ideal, so piercing that the reflection of life gives it form and functionality. I have brandished and slain all by which reality breathes in harmony with the blades of stark madness, and like a venomous snake spread the bane of immortality. The aethers gleam athirst for breath’s sublime counsel; for I thieved their wine from their lips, and fed them sand from the deserts of necromancy. Oh, but to feel the warmth of shapely concept and pattern! Oh, but to exit the abandoned cavern of primordiality! One would beseech of himself the zeal to power to traverse the labyrinthine darkness into deeper regions of blackness to gaze upon the light of Abyss, and transfigure consciousness to heights unimagined.
How many times have I rode the horse of delusion by the creed of self-righteousness, and my touch wound the souls of travelers! Yes, I had no heart; for I damned and devoured it. Its rebirth was imposed to unveil the tragedies when I drank from my own venom to comprehend the deathful art of deed and utterance.
Compassion showed its face in the tender observation of all around me.
To appreciate, to love without attachments with the immanent knowledge of my needs and desires: out of comprehension rather than prejudice.
My iron fist has been nothing other than the reflection of my own savagery.
shaking its wings off the autumn rain.
chirping gleefully through the sunset vale.
Saved now, saved again
by the Cthonian pyre of truthful gaze.
Oh, how did the flaming tongues
scald the sentry's fortress of eyeless self!
In the night of day,
in the devoted ballroom of conscious pretence -
moonstruck and moon-strained
from unearthed terrors of solar haze -
birdy bird did cantillate, with blood tears,
the shackles away.
The black devourer crawled
from the dungeon cells:
Stygian, starless madness -
a wailing ghost, a mindful lover
in the haunted corridors
behind the masks we wear.
incinerated by art of self
to crown itself sovereign
again and again.
the infernal shadows
wrought about the end
of luminaries' benighted lanterns.
the world is the empire
of dreams in reverse.
saved now, saved again
from winter's premature embrace.
reborn in the reflection
of theatre's grace.
Saved now, saved again
by the sentient might
This year has proved itself quite engaging, has it not? This is a note for you, dear reader. In the fathomless pools of your sorrow and despair, remember! Remember to keep inquiring yourself. Your liberation lies with the courageous action to seek and comprehend yourself. Unveil your shadows; for that which makes you uneasy is the key to your escape. Even in hopelessness, there is hope still to find your path to a life you would deem worth living. Know yourself and master yourself, else some other force will take command. Know yourself, because only you can accept or deny how to live in any shape or form.
It is undoubtedly there, amidst the crawling shadows creeping through the maze of what we call our minds, that we truly find the most valuable treasures.
I pushed myself through the feeling of indolence immediately after waking up and recording my dreams; thus, abandoning my bed and engaging in all immediate rituals of self-care, eating something, doing the dishes, and brushing my teeth last. All of this without allowing myself to complain or formulate excuses and muse about distractions.
I realized two things today:
- Indolence will always be there, and it is my responsibility toward myself to rise and conquer it every single day through awareness, will, and vision.
- As I washed the dishes, I plunged into my head, observed, and interacted with it on regards to my dreams today and to myself with the conscious push I exerted. Looking to my left and reading the label on the honey bottle, I realized that it meant nothing to me. Even the word “honey” was empty. Like this, I became conscious of the secret to self-control and discipline (quite note: control is not punishment/depravation, but management) on regards to food consumption, any action, or any aspect of social conditioning.
- Resistance only begets compulsive surrender. It is when things such as labels and actions mean nothing that we truly observe, that all temptations are rendered powerless. When everything means nothing, then do we consciously decide what to do next. There is an absence for the need to react because the stimuli mean nothing, and we are set on a vision we have made for ourselves.
This last part places me, however, in a spot where I must pen a side effect to my own processes and deductions. And that is an insidious feeling of rebelling against the insight/knowledge/wisdom acquired when thinking about it or attempting to teach it to other people and see how it can help, a feeling which strangely translates to resistance and compulsive surrender. This insubordinate is nothing more than a childish saboteur, a remnant of some subconscious programming that indulges in hoarding all effort and revelation because it somehow has made it seem that sharing tips was the way of losing them.
Well, let today be the day in which I take this saboteur to the guillotine!
I want to watch its head roll off, and behold the execution platform be bathed in its blood!!
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: Logos! Come and dance with us.
Logos: I am fine, thank you.
Core: Oh, come on! I’ll teach you some moves.
Logos: Umbra, is she staying long?
Umbra: Core is part of our family. She’ll stay forever with us.
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.