Link .2

Posted in Writing with tags , , , on 24/06/2020 by GeoSolus

Upon a corner chair made of ornately carved French oak sat the man of the hour. His eyes were but shadows as a single overhead white light beamed down upon his skull and sharpened his features.
He was not alone. Just out of his reach sat a woman dressed in white. Her bare back turned to him, straight and toned from the base of her spine to the arcane symbol tattooed upon her neck. Her jet black hair took the form of an inverted V with tips that disappeared over her shoulders. Her legs were hidden underneath a skirt that sprawled across the floor to form a half circle before her. Upon her lap, between her hands, she held a silver chalice engraved with another arcane symbol. From it slivered a wisp of smoke that rose towards her painted face. She inhaled then held her breathe and time seemed to stop in that instant.
The first ritual was now complete.

Link .3

Posted in Writing with tags , , , on 23/06/2020 by GeoSolus

“He wants a gift in return for his knowledge.”

“Are you willing to make that sacrifice?”

“He said that it is the only way.”

“Is that so?”

“I am willing.”

“Then so be it.”

Link .4

Posted in Writing with tags , , , on 22/06/2020 by GeoSolus

The first taste of the flesh is an unveiling of mystery if the mind is willing.
Once the veil has been lifted and the paths to discovery have been followed to the limits of pleasure and pain then a thirst for something other shall manifest.

Link .5

Posted in Writing with tags , , , on 21/06/2020 by GeoSolus

“A soul for a soul”

“In what sense?”

“His return will bring loss.”

“A void that you can fill?”

“I do not know.”

“It is not too late to change course.”

“Oh but it is. He will not falter.”

“Will he be part of the loss?”

“I do not know.”

Link .6

Posted in Writing with tags , , , on 20/06/2020 by GeoSolus

The witching hour had passed when the man of the moment arrived at the temple. The place was empty save for a scroll and two lit candles placed in front of a chair. The chair upon which he had been seated during the ritual.
Now was the time for farewells and although he had wished for a final embrace he knew it was not to be. A note and a hint of her hope were all he had to start his final journey.

The Traveler

Posted in Visual Art, Writing with tags , , , , , on 18/06/2020 by GeoSolus

The TravellerShe moves in ways that captivate
My imagination
Roaming a cerebral wilderness
Beyond my recollections

She opens up my thoughts
Her hands suggest direction
Her lips a cheeky smile
Her eyes shine with affection

There’s something of a mystery
To what motivates her mind
Is she running to or from something
Or are we lost in time

As Above

Posted in Visual Art, Writing with tags , , , , on 13/06/2020 by GeoSolus

She lay her eyes upon an image of the heavens at night and said: “I do not recognise any of these constellations.” To which came the reply: “That is because you have spent your life staring at the wrong stars.”As Above

Mother

Posted in Visual Art, Writing with tags , , , , , on 10/06/2020 by GeoSolus

GaiaThis spinning little rock upon which we can thrive was once little more than a ball of fire. A result of collisions and compounds sharing energy or being obliterated. Energy and matter in violent interaction, fuming and radiant, forming a glowing sphere of intense heat and then: the flames died down, the embers cooled and from the ashes came life.

Akin to this little rock we are born from the flames of passion and are destined to live as embers. Some will ignite new flames, others will simply glow through their existence but ultimately all will turn to ash. So be gentle if you chose to rake through the ashes for they are the foundations and remains of the mythical phoenix.

The beginning and the end.

Your Move

Posted in Visual Art, Writing with tags , , , , , on 06/06/2020 by GeoSolus

“You do not win a game of chess by being a chess piece but without them there is no game to play.”Mother

The Meditation

Posted in Visual Art, Writing with tags , , , , , on 03/06/2020 by GeoSolus

Awake

Still

Looking for finality
A satisfying conclusion
To the battles and struggles
Made by man and his illusions

All these years
Decades
Centuries
I have waited for the day

Still

Silence is my appeaser
Where the thought finds a way
To circumvent the conflict
And live another day

Another day of waiting
As decades pass
Centuries
And still I wait