A very personnel fear
An urge to push away
I feel it say
You’re going to get hurt
You’re going to get hurt
Set a distance
Play it safe
And you won’t feel a thing
The clock struck midnight as the two candles were lit. One for the future and the other for days gone by. A silent lady was present with a scroll and brush in one hand and a long flaming match in the other. The orange flames from the candles and match illuminated three small porcelain dishes upon which were neatly piled three pigments: black, red and white. A forth dish sat apart upon which the silent one placed the burning match so that it could burn to its end.
The scroll and brush were then placed on the floor in such a manner that they formed the Roman numeral V with the three dishes at its summit.
The lady then rose and turned on the spot, making her long white dress sway and the candles flicker. Stepping forward she faded in to darkness as a second lady came forth from it and knelt before the scroll and brush.
In her hands were two pieces of wood carved into the shape of serpents. The one in her left hand was painted black with purple eyes and the one in her right hand was painted white with crimson eyes. She unrolled the scroll and placed a serpent on either side so that the scroll remained open and flat on the floor. She rose, turned and a third lady shadowed past her holding a crystal bowl of water between her hands.
She placed the bowl opposite the dish upon which lay the now spent match and thus completed the symmetry of the objects before her. With the exception of the brush which was laying next to the black serpent. She picked it up with her left hand, dipped it in the bowl of water and with sharp and fast strokes wrote upon the scroll. Then, closing her eyes. She reached out to the pigments, clenched a handful of the first one she felt then threw it on the scroll. With her eyes remaining closed she lay down the brush, gently felt for the serpents and with the tips of her fingers pushed them apart. The scroll sprung back in to its cylindrical shape and she softly sighed knowing that she must remain still until both candles had reached their end.
“If only I can make you dream the way I do then destiny will smile upon us all.”
Akin to the sprites
From the land of my birth
She danced, then posed, then laughed
Then curling her toes
Deep in to the sand
She reached out with soul
And whispered her craft
Come with me
To the edge of the desert
In search of wisdom and light
We shall taste infinity
And a thousand other delights
And so I followed her every step
To a place where time was no more
A tangible dream
A delectable scene
The incarnation of some ancient lore
In to her arms
I was bound
As heart and soul intertwined
And it was here
That I found my end
As I faded in to the divine
I watched the blood of the mother of mother spray a crimson mist upon a white handkerchief. It was a sign that she was soon to pass and time brought this sign to conclusion and left me as a child with a trinket carved out of jade. This trinket took the form of an elephant for an elephant never forgets.
Born with the bombs
That blew apart
Our civilized unions
And broke our fragile hearts
These streets run red
In all of the confusion
Just more collateral
A blood to concrete perfusion
For the divine
Sleeper’s dream
It is but a warning
A silent war of thoughts
A tempestuous brain storming
Decisions clouded over
This dire reign of greed
Tapping failing veins
To gloat rather than feed
A price you never paid
A debt that you created
Always paid in full
By those that you sedated
With chemical and cult
You pierced
And then you pried
Until their cerebral cortex
Was washed
Then hung out to dry
For the divine
Sleeper’s dream
No need to pay them heed
For you will never suffer
For you will never bleed
We build our machines with the hope that they will excel where we have failed.
Bound by an unspoken code and thrown in to a life of deception. The Devil put their heart in to sure hands for safe keeping. There was a long journey ahead with many paths written in blood. The undoing of what had been done and the liberation of future days. Retribution would bring redemption but first the bloodline had to be secured.
A different kind of music for a new kind of magic.
An air of mystery wrapped in such familiarity.
A feeling woven in to the unknown.
A story written by lucid dreams becoming real over time.
It is these mental projections that keep you ahead of the curve.