Thursday, June 17, 2004


The world before me is a tunnel, the ghouls reach their gastly arms grasping for a hand full life. Onword I go! into the distance seeking that ever distant horizon, unreachable called Love. But how long shall I walk?
I stand at the other side of the bridge, no longer draped with peers over that lonely abyss which echoed out my calls and reflected my inner monster but the planks of that bridge were built in pairs, and now I stand alone in the glorious yet wretched sea of solitary victory. Now I am drowning.
The life rafts tease like mirages in the distance, calling out rhythmically like drums, beating in tune with my own heart. I see a glimps of my resuer only to have the images torn away it's memory burned into my eyes.
How many breaths can I still take? How many ghost ships will show themselves to my eyes. Wearily I swim and Lo! the Leviathin seeks me, his is the monster who's echo I heard all those years ago.
Man can be loved for his imperfection, he is the going over, and the going under, but what awaits that which crosses the bridge? Can there be pain without enlightenment. Desire comes from the loins of knowledge.
The tree has grown, and I have climbed my own branches, 32 paths all trodden, my waxing and waning philisophical flows with the winds.
I am gone, but here forever, my mark on you can never heal. You ask to see behind the mask but cower to see more than hollow eyes, I am not so empty. Isis, Osiris, Horus, who will rule the next age? if there is one to rule at all. Will those who have crossed the abyss become the old gods to new worlds? Beware, the singularity draws nigh, beyond comprehention lives only feeling, can you live then without goals and without regrets?
They ask what I belive, and laugh thoughtlessly when I tell them, but they are all just illusions. I am filled to the brim with moonlight and emotion, my muses stimulate my depression, together they are the turtles and the elephants on which this world rests. Aleph-Null is more than just a concept, can you see beyond the veil to worlds within worlds?
I see our cities drentched in steel and cement, towns nesteled in idealized forests, but even the outside lives forever within. After the rain the greenest thing I see are the graveyards.

To meet a kindrid spirit is to find water in the desert, even if you have ample water, you must cherish each and every find as though it will be your last. But do not think that I speak only of friends, for the most kindred of spirits are those with whom we compete, those who make us better ourselves and question our own greatness. There is no room in ones life for those who do not compel us to greatness. Beware though that these kindrid spirits do not show themselves as ghosts on the horizon. They are the lights at the end of tunnels, but fall not down the rabbit hole, unless your prepared to never look back.


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