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The Madman, "Yes, three days, three centuries, three aeons. Strange they would always weigh and measure. It is always a sundial and a pair of scales."

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

(129)

A vortex of living white Light
Rains from the heavens,
Stirring ripples of cataclysmic Renewal
Over a ghostly lake where
Legions of the long-time dead
Bide their time in torment.
The Light fills this lake and everything around
Creating a sea of Silent brightness.

From rotting roots of severed Selfness
A spiral of guilty, greedy grimness rises
Coiling around the hurricane of light,
Strangling its way to the zenith,
And becomes one with the milky haze
That domes the world,
Turning the foggy night into
A cocoon of raging tumult.

Staring into the Abyss of hypnotic gravity
That pulls from the sky and twists space & time,
His upturned face is a picture of
Stoned, serene stillness.
He copiously consumes the light storm,
Standing in its Eye to peer into
The dark distances of the universe
Where souls that have lost their way
Sing songs of lament,
Mourning the immortality of Eternity.

Beyond, he sees the Truth.

Startled into sobriety,
He blinks & spills the sea of serenity
That withdraws into the sky, dissipating,
Giving way to all pervading Darkness
Leaving only guilty greedy grimness
To strangle his psyche &
Choke the Truth to death
When he shuts his eyes.
The corpse floats motionlessly in his mind like falsehood,
Finding its place in the legions
Of long-time-dead, piled up knowledge.
This ghostly lake swells and tries to inhale,
Craving for another drag of the stormy whiteness,
To bring him back to life
So he can journey again to
Where the Truth is still alive,
Beyond & denied.

(128)

When you’re messing around with insanity,
You know exactly what you’re doing.


The battle-drums he heard in
The back of his head
Was his own panicking heart.
He knew he should have stopped
Long ago
But the sinister smoke flowing
Out from the dark pit in his chest
Never found its way out.
The brightness of his eyes choked itself cold,
Polluting his view.
He knew he was breeding monsters in
The poison that filled the
Cavernous catacombs of his mind.
He knew there was no battle,
Only senseless slaughter in
The war he waged against himself.

But he sought only victory,
A vain vision to stand vindicated on
The corpse of his slain soul
& finally let his pride breathe.

(127)

Courage is hard to find in
Silent, cramped corners.
When Light can’t find its way in,
How will it find its way out?
And the fool cries, devastated,
From the pain of what he has become,
Unable to fathom the depth of his grim ambition.
Darkness crushes his horizon into curdled creepiness
And twists the sky into labyrinths that
Fill his view with foul fumes of confounding finality.

In the end nothing was supposed to amount to anything
But the end is still a faraway chance
And nothingness is right here,
Seeping into everything everywhere.

Yet courage hides its cowardly face when
It must come rushing in like a tidal wave
And blow away layers of lulled emptiness
For courage is hard to find in
Silent, cramped corners like
His heart, that doesn’t really beat anymore.