#intotheabys5

[marcelleradyn]

And We Spoke of Dust

And I awoke on a disk of dust that bore the entrance to a cave. Look I up to see seven great stars in this sky. They were constantly fighting and grouping and regrouping and regrouping once more. I then saw one of the greatest of these attack another with such force that it wiped away most of its pride and that of its children. This powerful star held all the others in fear and governed the sky with its iron fist, craving their black blood. This soon became uninteresting as they weren’t going anywhere, as the red queen and her malice ran.

Besides me I saw six arrow heads lying bare of their quiver and dressed in their histories. These looked strange but gained little of my attention.

I turned to the cave’s entrance that lurked behind me, haunting echoes stirred inside me, ghastly claws enthralled me in me loomed it around me twirled it and forth I went into it. I heard nothing ‘cept foot steps and breaths of wind until it spoke to me.

 It asked me why I am here and whence from I came. “ I awoke outside and know not how I got here” and I told him that I am from a star far away. “Do you know where you are?” it asked. I didn’t and wondered if it would know but before I could reply it said “Then how do you assume you are far from home?”.

“It matters not” it said and asked me once more why I came. I didn’t know what to say for it was not a willing venture I made. I put this from mind and asked it about the stars. “How come those stars are perpetually in combat with one another?” and hoped it would draw its focus from the previous question. “They have only one goal and that is your goal as is it your brothers goal and your nation’s goal. They are brothers and they are a nation”

“I have no will to fight my brother or my own nation” I said confused. “True, but their combat is not where it started. Hast thee no desire to help thy brother whom is weaker than thou art? For that is the source of all war”. I did not understand at all. How could helping a brother cause a war? It went on, “the great star wanted to help the smaller one but the smaller one refused the help, thinking it knows better, and so the great star is offended and hence forth it escalates.” It made a little more sense but not really.

 I put that out of my mind and remembered the arrows, “Did you make the arrows outside?”

“Indeed I did.” came the short reply.

“Why is that you didn’t make them all equal. Surely a hunter wants all his arrows to be of the highest quality?”

“Those arrows are all created perfect, but it is not I whom chooses their final appearance. There is however only one arrow that is perfect in every aspect and his number is six.”. I went outside and looked at the sixth arrow. It was long, slender and the shaft very flexible. The head was black and flamed with hate. I picked it up and saw its feathers, a purple so dark it appeared pitch black, but they were cold as ice. I put it down in the middle of the others, it then swift as the wind, snapped from side to side engulfing the two on either side. I went back and asked it “How come that one is so perfect, it destroyed two of your other arrows?”

“It is pure” came the proud reply, “its heart burns with the fire of perfection, its shaft flexes around any obstacle, its cold feathers judge earnestly. The two arrows it killed were decadent and weakened the others. It is my Slayer arrow and commands my Quiver.”

If that one had a title I wonder if the others did, “Do all of them have ranks?”

“The Slayer is my heart and soul and its number is six. There are only six of them but they are worthy. The bearers with the number five are my disciples and are few. They carry my message but lack the strength of my Slayers. Those of the order four are my acolytes. They bear my message in their heart but keep it inside. They are my shame, but I pity them as well and they are not many. The rank of three belongs to my Opposer. They are many but they are not an enemy. They serve as the example for my higher ranks. They are ignorant and they know not, but they are true. The second line belongs to the Drudgery and is the third ranks mimics. They pose and they put forward but they are shells and worthless. They bear my livid hate and they are abundant. Lowest of my arrows are the Thorns for that is what they are. They are a plague on all the others and put their name to shame. They are the faeces of the herd, they are the whores of the earth, they are the degradation of my quiver and their numbers are infinite. They serve one purpose and that is to die. My Slayers bear this task with pride and the other ranks love them for what they do.”

 “The arrows know their ranks?” I asked.

“Only the Slayers and the Disciples know their ranks” it said emotionless.

“Am I a Slayer?”

“No!” he screamed demonically as if offended but what was I suppose to do?

“Who are you?” I was getting annoyed.

“I made the stars outside and I made the arrows. I made the disk you tread upon and I took the light from this cave you stand in. I gave light to them when they asked for it and I took their firstborn’s when they failed my disciples command.” then followed a deep sigh.

“Why don’t you reveal yourself to me?” this was the first time this question actually crossed my mind.

“I don’t have a mirror and nor do I need one”

“Where am I?” I was getting irate and wanted to leave.

“You are in the light”

“Did you create me?”

“No thing can create itself“

“Are you God?”

“Do you consider yourself God?” what a strange question I thought.

“I do” and for the first time I admitted it

“Then yes, I am God”

[marcelleradyn]

On the ledge of a great cliff

And I saw he who is called first to rise, standing on the ledge of a great cliff and he was looking down unto the herd. His eyes flickered with a soft romantic fire. His grin was as that of a victor on a podium, proud and conquering. And then he who is also called beautiful rallied the surrounding hills and made them draw up in arms, to fight the evil herd. And then he broke the cliff and it collapsed on the fools in the valley below, but they were unscathed, for he who is called love stood by them. And then he who is called deceiver rose from the ground in hate and came down to challenge the one called mercy. This battle was waged for days when finally he who spits on the truth fell, conquered and abashed. He swirled his deceitful tongue about and lulled oh such beautiful songs, but clear were the tones of another lie. Then he who is called king banished he who is called prince to the dark for thousands of years. The king would not take back the deceiver’s breath, for the Majesty was still called mercy and love. Slowly most of the herd forgot the battle, forgot the king, and forgot the deceiver.   So now out of sight and out of mind a pit opens from beneath, and he who is called Dragon rises from the depths on his ivory bone chair. He brings with him many things that man oh so covets, and as the nature of this simpleton, he sees only what he wants. He who cannot love spews forth his lies and strengthens his black cattle mass, but the great deceiver is too deceived. Then he who is called Glory comes down from the clouds on his lightning storm throne and weeps all faults to dust. All dirt specks and boulders of lust are cleansed, but once is enough and the vase is deplete. All the black herd is sent to the pit and the hand filled rest ascend.   But came the time for a new aeon then lo and behold the king in his heaven and the prince in his hell both died oh so maliciously! This civilization ended and so did their gods. And when the new one was born, their new gods sauntered in behind them, ready to wage another holy war.

[marcelleradyn]

On the man that never existed but had three sons

And I saw three men standing upon a cloudy hill at quarter to three.

One was dreadfully old and tattered at heart. He bore the scars of countless wars and many pains, but hid it well beneath the black velvet robe of aristocracy. Upon his breast he carried the symbol for eternity. He was dead but one that would never die, one that never lived. He is the one that always walks behind, dwells in graves and lingers in the mind. His name was many things but none will come to pass again.

Then in the front there stood a man whom I could not see very well, for he was not yet there completely. He stood ethereally on the minds of everyone. He was young every morning and died every night, but never grew old. Always optimistic and full of hope, this man held all dreams in his left hand and all hopes in his right. Clad in white he always walks in front, and every so often when one gazed upon him, his visage would change. He was once at the back and he was once in the middle but he is always at the front. His name will only be one thing, but so delicate it is, that he has never told it to anyone at all. But one thing that is sure, is that his name will still come. He carries the shapeless symbol on his chest.

Then in the middle was a man with wings as large as life and he was swift as time. He was everywhere and he will always be everywhere, but always on his own. From his mouth presents flow to all who acknowledge him, for in essence that is what he is. He is the one that always walks in the middle, never before and never after, but always on his own. He is clad in many colours and is named Ephemeral. He carries the symbol for mortality on his chest.

Then I saw the man in the middle with his big wings rise off of the ground. He unsheathed a sword from beneath his cloak and pithed the man at the back. The black velvet cloak dropped to the floor before he even realised what has happened. His face was buried in the grass as he turned around to face the man in the air. He stood up and grew a little bigger, a little stronger.

The eternal man said to his assailant “Every second that passes makes me stronger and nothing can kill me. I am he who never lived!”

Again the man in the air made another assault, this time swift as he was he moved to the black ones back and impaled him. Lifting the eternal man up upon his sword, Ephemeral saw the black robed one grow stronger and bigger once again, but this time he also noticed the one that always stands in front growing a little smaller. He knew now that these two are linked even although neither was conscious of it. He dropped the eternal man to the floor and slipped the sword out of his back.

The one clad in white turned to Ephemeral and said “I have been waiting for you. My eyes see well into the heart. I am he who must still live.”

And so the mortal one slew the shapeless man with no reason and no thought. That beautiful ethereal body draped over the floor and bled softly, gently and without any protest. As he lay there he became of this world and his life took form and shape, before it passed to he who dons the black velvet cloak.

Soon after that the wings of Ephemeral became as dust and his body became as ash. “What is this evil! I have not bled but now I rot?!” cried the man that is always in the middle. Every moment of his decay fed the eternal man.

“I cannot die! I am he who lives!” came the dry whispers of an endeavoured scream. That glorious coloured robe’s glitz was growing ever more insipid and its bearer vanished swiftly.

In his utmost glory the man always at the back stood stronger than ever before, he was now the only man left. “Such effrontery” he said when suddenly he felt a dreadful pain in his heart, for he now realised what just happened. He too fell to the floor and with a great gasp everything died with him. He died gracefully with wisdoms and memories of many things, but one could not see as his life left him. This was something he had not had for a long time, and of all the many things he saw, the atrocities left the deepest mark. He once saw a child suffer all atrocities, and this is what stole the fire in his eyes.

All that was and all that is and all that would have been came together in a great hurricane of chaos. I stood there for a time that was not long and was not brief, it was just a time. My sons had died today upon that cloudy hill, and I don’t know why. And so without them my arms stopped, ready to embrace. Because I could not live without my sons, I never really existed anyway, even to this day.

[marcelleradyn]

Behold the Soulless-Fire-Scourge Fall

And I stood high upon the clouds of dust and watched the earth below me live. I saw a great rock fall from the heavens, covered in flame.

It rained past me as a giant Lord from a place unknown. I watched it blaze toward the earth with such fury it made the earth tremble and shake. The beasts upon the floor could not escape its wrath and they were swept aside by its majesty.

They lay down and accepted their fate. As this Lord crushed into the earth it gave a gasp as if relieved. As if emancipated from its tiring journey through space and time and now he has lain his feet upon his destiny for the first time. Relieved and exhausted he went to sleep. He laid down with such tire that the earth was sent high above and all about, blocking out the sun.

The Lord lay there in his slumber for a thousand years, then finally awoke. The Lord stood up and looked around. He looked pleased. Then crouched down into a fetal-like position (still standing) and took a deep breath. He raised his arms and head in a sudden lash to the path on which he came, standing as a Christ crucified. He glowed, red hot, and I watched as his body spread all across the land, as seeds flung from the hand.

He covered all four corners that the winds claim, but he could not settle where roots can not grow. With this came a terrible silence over the earth, (while he was sleeping new beasts crawled from the dust of the ground, never before seen by the sun or even the moon. They even flew to the heavens of the Lord) and these new creatures shrank in fear and quivered with terror. They new this new Master was here with a whip and lash to strike and to cull. But this was not so.

He came with a gentle hand, a soft hand, a hand of love. It was the seed of the earth before my Lord that they had to fear. The men made of dust. The ones born without the seed of the Master.

And I watched these monsters stand up on their own two feet. Their numbers grew fast and thy just took and took. I saw the Masters children fight them but they were too numerous. One would fall and ten would rise. But behold said the King, my body has been divided equally and for each half there is another half, for each piece a matching one. In glory I saw these Princes find their Princesses. But I saw the dirty ones stumble around in their lust and deception and betrayal killing one another. Killing the creatures of the world. Taking the heart of our Queen and burning it every single day. Cutting her down. Digging her up, drinking her dry and gorging at her flesh.

But my Lords children all came together one by one and formed their bonds, rebuilding his body so he may slay the soulless ones, the children of the dust. He stood up and they all trembled now. He burnt their crosses, ate their hearts and spat on their holy men for they were naught but sinners and whores whaling in their own hypocrisy.

And they were slain by his just left hand. His children picked up their Queen from that dusty floor and made her whole once more.

She was groomed and loved once again and her empire grew with life and love as meant to be.

My Queen and my Lord together, two souls made one, as meant to be.

[marcelleradyn]

Upon the Shore of Dreams

And came the sun of man to rest upon the shore of dreams, I saw a wild flower silhouetted against a green sky.  Then a red cloud came from right to left and bore a sigil on his face, and this meant life. She spoke to him in tongues no man will ever understand, but her petals lick at a heart that burns to hear, but we do not know we bear its ears.

The cloud came down as the sky went black, he went from red to white and shed he’s guise. She still stood in all her brilliance and I felt her voice sing a song of ignorance. The cloud stepped up and picked a cluster of stars for her, he brought them down and sprayed them in her hair.

Below her the hills now crumbled slow and slow and slow again but not to her would this occur. And then from in the earth the sun arose, a bleeding sun, black blood that kept him burning all this time, “But now his time has come to rest upon the shores of Avolon” I felt the flower say. She took from her crown a thousand petals and platted a medallion as I could never knot. Around his neck it went and burnt with the honour she has voiced for him. “A noble Sun”, she said “that hath not greed or lust in his heart. A Sun that gave his life to me and with one last breath and one last spark came up to say fare well”.

The sun hath now bled all his blood and sparked all his spark as he grew smaller and smaller and smaller. The cloud has now turned into a dreadful sombre blue that hugged his majesty tight. He did not care for the heat that melted him down the sun’s cheeks, for there was no more sun to line him silver. Slowly the flower wilted to her knees and then to her side and then away into the great dark hole her man has made.

“Oh death be naught for he to whom it comes first, but see the love he leaves behind, to them the suffering must be shed. Now here my body lies, in dark green everlasting cries…but to whom?” her voice in my heart I felt.

The hate will pass and the regret will fade.

The sorrow will pass and the search will fade.

And life will pass with all its age, but the longing for him will linger on…

to keep her occupied.

[marcelleradyn]

Apoptosis

The credits started rolling, the show has ended. She stands up to take out her contacts and get ready for bed. I look at my phone to check the time, half past ten. I’m not tired but we have to get up early so that I can drop her of at the airport. I can’t believe this time has come again, it feels like yesterday that she went to visit her folks.

I hear her feigning joy in the bathroom with a song but I know it’s not real. I know what she feels, because I feel it too. The air hangs thick with dread and avoidance. Like a child walking down a dark corridor to its room. If it doesn’t look at the shadows it can pretend the fear is not there. But we both know that sooner or later we have to face it.

As she comes back to the living room I try to entice her to sit with me for another drink and a smoke, preventing the inevitable “going to bed”. I think that if we just stay up then tomorrow won’t come. I know that if we go to bed we have to sleep and if we sleep tomorrow will come. She declines, “I’m sorry but I have to sleep”. I know she does. As we get into bed there’s a silence the weight of the world.   Before she moved here to live with me we would only see each other for a week or two every six months or so, now we are only apart for two or three weeks twice a year. These feelings now seem silly when compared to those times, but that doesn’t make them go away. They’re real and getting worse each time. Is this our love getting stronger, more connected? My heart, a cauldron of emotion unlocked. I try to cover it with a lid but it gets harder and harder as the departure approaches. I wonder to myself if all lovers feel this way. I comfort myself that they do but it’s only a plaster for a gaping wound. I think of my parent’s generation that had to do this often when the men went to the army for training, compulsory in their day. My folks were married for two weeks when my father was conscripted. I feel weak and immature when I can’t bear three weeks without her.   “when are you coming down to visit me?” “as soon as I can” I lie to comfort her. I know that I can’t go down or even get leave from work. We lie chatting for ten odd minutes when she says goodnight and puts of the lights. I watch the shadows on the walls. Peaceful. Emotionless. Content in their ignorance. Eventually I face the night and close my eyes.   “These mornings always seem to come sooner than the others” I think to myself as I get out of bed. The air even thicker now. As though the cold of the night congealed it to solidity. We quickly finish up and get in the car to go to the airport. On the way there our words are few and far between. They get stuck in the air I guess. “Remember to make yourself lunch for work” she reminds me. “And please drive safe while I’m away”. I tear up but quickly hush it away. I have to be strong for us. Never fails to amaze me how the little things are the ones you miss most in times such as these. Like looking through a microscope and noticing that the mortar that holds together a wall are only small stones and chemical reactions. I drop her off and head home.   The house is empty and silent. The air still hangs thick as mud but there seems to be a void that it struggles to fill. A void that I notice in everything I do. I dangle a carrot in front of my mind to lead it onto other paths, but every now and then it rebels and takes me to her. Curse this love! Curse the heart and the evolution of emotion! In these times I envy people that are single. I would not wish love upon my worst enemy. When she’s gone I never seem to have an appetite. When she is here I never want to sleep, but now I always sleep. Perhaps a subconscious effort to make time pass by faster. I get into bed and think to myself, “If I can’t be alone for two weeks after 5 years, how will I manage when she passes after sixty!?”. A selfish thought peers in, “I wish to pass first”. A thought that is like a shadow in the corner of your eye. You can’t see it but you know it is there and when you look it’s gone. I drift off.   The days drag on as if illuminated by the midnight sun. Fortunately I get to go to work for nine hours and keep my mind busy there, but the nights are when I struggles the most. As a Mexican Petunia I live for the phone call every night. It always comes but never lasts. The void in the air is only filled momentarily and reappears instantly as a light switched off. I think it is the void that keeps me going. After all, it is defined by the heavy air. It gives it shape and meaning.   Finally the day arrives when I fetch her again. We embrace in the crisp morning air. The world feels balanced and as it should be. I mourn for the people that have not felt this. A cauldron of love and joy that cannot be matched by anything else. I feel alive and rejoice in humanity and all of its evolution. I hope that no enemy of mine will ever feel this glory. I sense the relief from both of us. An ethereal but tangible connection of ecstasy. A thought peers in like a shadow in the corner of one’s eye, “she will leave again sooner than expected”. But those are thoughts for a future me and a future her, and I lock them away once again.

[marcelleradyn]

I once saw a man who was grossly over weight

I once met a man who was grossly over weight! To him the world was just another plate of food away. He lived on an island far into the sea, so far that no man or woman would ever reach. If they tried it by boat it would surely rot and if by plane they would never have enough fuel and fall, before they saw. His little island has been a float in that black sea for billions of years some say, only about six thousand others say. There was a little white one close by for those with their noses in the air, and half the time you could see the fiery one…apparently that’s the hottest place around. I don’t know how I got there on that day, but open may eyes and, with a Big Bang, there I was. An act of God I said, delirium the voices said. But what ever the case I was there none the less, on that day, before the man became so grossly over weight. I sat with him in his garden - that he called paradise, oh if you could only see! - and we spoke of everything beneath the stars, above the stars, around the stars and even in the stars. He was such a delightful man with love for all the creatures he kept around, from the sweet little honey bee, to the huge grizzly bear. This was back in the day – not like today – when things were simpler, man cared for that bear and it for him. Then as evening came upon us he offered me something to drink, but I said “No thanks, I am not thirsty”. “You don’t need to be”, he said, but still I didn't take. We sat their for hours just speaking and then the man started swaying to the rhythm of the ocean, to and fro, here and there, what a lovely little dance I thought and then he fell. I noticed he was finding it hard to speak as well, shluring all his words. He soon fell once again, fast asleep this time…”Shame, he must have had a hard day” I said and went to bed as well. The next morning we woke up bright and early for another day of brotherhood, but he was cursing at the boiling sun, raging at the bothersome bear and the noisy little honey bee. A side of this loving man I had never seen and hoped it was just the remnants of a passing bad dream. But lo and behold it was not and before midday the clouds gathered thick and black with veins of wrath for this silly little man. The heavens opened and it poured down, covering all the island but the highest little peak. I was sure that I would die on that fateful black day, but once the man said sorry were it was due, all the water went away. To celebrate our life and breath, the man offered me something to eat, from out of his own little paradise. He raised a feast for us two, fit for a thousand kings and their kingdoms, because there was enough in paradise for ten times this. The two of us ate until we were woefully full, or so I thought. The man then gorged the rest on his own, “for good food can’t go to waste”. But after that his stomach grew a little and he was ready for more. Again the feast was prepared and we two shared, but this time he ate twice as much because he made twice as much. After this once more the little paradise was looking dreadfully bleak and awfully quite, with all the little honey bees and pretty round flowers in his big tummy. He looked at me with most saddened, distressed eyes and said “what shall we eat!” But over my shoulder the seas life sparkled and so did his eyes, for he had never thought of that. In a flurry he was in the sea with all his grease and blubber a truly sore sight to see. But out came the giant with all he could carry – by now this was quite a lot! – and set it down next to the fire, ready to be spiced and cooked. I went to the water while he was stuffing his face and stuck my head beneath the dreary cold waves. By God I'm not lying but he grabbed all the life from the ocean, even the littlest crab and the biggest whale – to wash away his filth of course! When he ate it all he realised what he had done and fell to the floor – again I feared for my life - dismayed beyond belief. He lay there as a child, crying over what he has done, but these tears were not for the little honey bee, but because he had no more to eat! He rolled onto his back - for he could not stand any more, nor could he sit – and said to me with horrible bubbling muck in the corners of his mouth, “what shall we eat!” But then again the twinkle came and he mauled on his own hand. Soon this was gone then next to go was his arm, his other hand and then his feet. How he managed to eat his whole body and his head I still don’t know, but true as my word is he did! When he bit the last bit of his lip off, he vanished into a dark abyss. I fell to the floor in utter disgust, “How could a man eat himself to death?” But so it was. And from the black hole, once again, came zooming out the little honey bee, followed by a giant brown bear and a pretty little white flower to dance with me.

[marcelleradyn]

A shadow hides within

A deeper dark than any night bestowed this eve of light. Two twin brothers walked hand in hand all through the forest amongst the beauty beside their pergola paths. One path for each only separated by a narrow strip of grass, that reaches to the sky with the same ambition as to the core of mother. This path is twenty years old and is heading to a dark grove unseen by either boys, soon to be men – as is the idea.  This road has wound and turned and up and down it went but mostly, like two trains, they have stayed their course and lived through it as an oak through flame. Burnt as they may get, there is always the path that guides them blindly and with faith they trust in it religiously. This is the path the world has set for them. The path that will take them home. The path that carries them. The only path they know. This darkness up ahead has not stirred the spirit of the brother on the right for he has not yet seen it and walks head abowed watching the stones and dirt below his feet make dust. Left to him strides his blood with smaller steps growing smaller still for he has his eye set firmly upon that dark’s approach. The qi in him is unsettled and swirls twirls whirls and then crashes with forces upon his heart and grinds all of him into nothing. With head abowed still the brother right asks what perturbs, grinning at the silly dust and how it flutters all around his feet. The unsettled one looks to Right perplexed and amazed, “Hast thou not lain eyes on the dark ahead?”. Then Right says “Worry not my friend and kin. For thou must only have faith in the path and it shall save thee. It shall lead us around the dark”, still amazed at this dusty wonder down below. “But thou hast not seen the dark oh brother” says Left. ”I said fear not beloved, I am Right. Just keep thine eyes upon the path” And now as not before the dark was imminent and ominous, but only to one of the beloveds it would seem. The musk and dinge of aeons past loomed beneath that shadow. A shadow that would drown all light. A shadow that would kill all life. A shadow that has naught power over he who does not want to see it. A shadow that will grant new life. A shadow that will belight all benighted. With no sign of anxiety or care, Right passed through the dark with eyes upon he’s beloved road, never yet or ever still to be lifted there from. Left however became encloaked with it, infused with it, enthralled by it, engulfed by it and never again would he venture without the darkness all throughout his heart. As they left the dark The Transformed beheld Right and pitied him for he is as a bull that strives to be a naught but that. Now Left looked to the front and espied the road’s fork. He let his brothers hand go and bode him farewell, “Fortune be granted to thee my Blood but now I must leave thy side!” Despaired Right heard his kin stride down a new road, a road of loneliness sin emptiness and one straight to hell. But he loved his brother still as only a good brother could. Left however saw the ignorance in the blind ones thought but said nothing for he new he was not ready. Then as it seemed from nowhere a new path joined onto the awakened’s  and she strode as a leaf upon the wind unto his heart. She laid her touch there and never lifted it again. “How hast thee, my fair lady, known where to find my path??” asked Left finally. “For it was my will, and yours to my love. There is only one law and this law governs all law and it is the whole of the law, it reads do what thy will” graced the petal by his side. At that instant the Seeing realised this held true and he gazed upon the many paths that joined onto his for he could now see with his spirit too. Whatever he willed, there was a path to guide him there. And so he, along with his Satin Lotus Queen, walked their path together hand in hand, till both stepped over the threshold as one. As lovers, parents, grandparents, friends and soul mates. Into the light they go, finally at the end of their roads.