I don't want world tonight.
World is long and full of distortion
I would rather reach into the clear-poised mystery that ever resides, draw up from it's silent contours words and worlds that came before this life-- Nurture the wild symbols of infinity from within.
Scrolls, Scrolls therein were written names too long to memorize names that contained a power so real, when spoken, ushered in entire new skies.
Stars were born of this.
Lapis ink searing light prose to dust long pages… from behind the hexagonal silk screens of noble gases, from within the deepest antechambers of distant moons, from the storehouses of the Gods of the stranded suns; the Craftsmen of Eternity building matter from dust dust from emptiness emptiness from?...
Or so it has been written.
Am I Scribe? I had thought she already died, Descendant of Thoth, daughter of moon dusted seas Buried long ago with quill and pen, drowned in the salt warm pools of the Aegean Sea
But what is this? Words breathe and stream into form once more…
As if to say... and only to say... there is another Way.
When World Bends to Truth again
When World Sees Eye to Eye with the Wide Knowing of Sky When World Burns through its poisoned glands And sets a balm of hidden moons to the gaping wound left behind Soothing and mending the anti-countenance and trembling scars of war…
When World comes to its knees in surrendered prayer in the light of a memory so real, in the face of a love never again to be forgotten, In the heart of hearts of all worlds... There, there you will meet your only God
And a band of singing white day birds will fill your very air…
How we hold to our fables Even as everything crumbles before our eyes.
© Naramore Creations 2015