Post by Caylus Ark on Jul 24, 2019 18:36:08 GMT
I've been absent awhile now.
I can't say where I've been really - nowhere, both mentally and metaphorically.
But there is a spark ever present, always trying to remind me that each of us have a destiny that is ours alone. Something that nobody else can fulfill.
I'm not trying to live by society's standards anymore - not that I ever was, yet...I'm trying to define what happiness means to me personally.
I think distinctly that quality is greatness. The desire to change the world. That's always been with my. My fate...my guiding star.
How do people get so lost that they can no longer find themselves in their own reflection. This is what has happened to me, why my presence on my own site has relegated me to the shadows.
But I can't forget myself anymore. Who I am and why I exist. No matter what manner I conceive of to obliterate myself, this simple fact remains. Some unknown force compelling me, even with the niggling sense of anxiety, to face myself somehow.
I am both here and not here.
The eye of shiva is pried open. Each eyelash is tethered to a string, and this series of strings conducts an orchestra of several octaves. The shuddering of the eyelid is the rise and fall in pitch and tempo. Light hits the pupil of the eye like the border of an event horizon, the edge of a black hole. Light is consumed in the eye as it enters the eye. The dimension on the other side is a complete consciousness. An utter demolition from which the ruins of a tower may yet rise again, not straight up to touch the sky, but to arch and coil as a snake. Its next incarnation is hornlike, a spiral. Rainbows meeting and merging at every other interval, thus becoming braided by the synchrony of circumstances intersection. Unforeseen and unapologized for.
The King keeps the Princess in a tower, for he knows if the day comes that lightning strikes the tower down, his world will end and a new one will begin. Not because the opulence of his castle is lost, but because the magic daughter within its walls is freed from the Stone. The babalon, the gateway, between the realm of man and the realm of the gods is formed in the craning of her soft neck as she whispers of above and below. Her palms form the cat's cradle into a grail, the grail on her forehead and strewn beneath her feet. The water and the earth are silently married into a Tsunami.
Is the princess truly free?
I can't say where I've been really - nowhere, both mentally and metaphorically.
But there is a spark ever present, always trying to remind me that each of us have a destiny that is ours alone. Something that nobody else can fulfill.
I'm not trying to live by society's standards anymore - not that I ever was, yet...I'm trying to define what happiness means to me personally.
I think distinctly that quality is greatness. The desire to change the world. That's always been with my. My fate...my guiding star.
How do people get so lost that they can no longer find themselves in their own reflection. This is what has happened to me, why my presence on my own site has relegated me to the shadows.
But I can't forget myself anymore. Who I am and why I exist. No matter what manner I conceive of to obliterate myself, this simple fact remains. Some unknown force compelling me, even with the niggling sense of anxiety, to face myself somehow.
I am both here and not here.
The eye of shiva is pried open. Each eyelash is tethered to a string, and this series of strings conducts an orchestra of several octaves. The shuddering of the eyelid is the rise and fall in pitch and tempo. Light hits the pupil of the eye like the border of an event horizon, the edge of a black hole. Light is consumed in the eye as it enters the eye. The dimension on the other side is a complete consciousness. An utter demolition from which the ruins of a tower may yet rise again, not straight up to touch the sky, but to arch and coil as a snake. Its next incarnation is hornlike, a spiral. Rainbows meeting and merging at every other interval, thus becoming braided by the synchrony of circumstances intersection. Unforeseen and unapologized for.
The King keeps the Princess in a tower, for he knows if the day comes that lightning strikes the tower down, his world will end and a new one will begin. Not because the opulence of his castle is lost, but because the magic daughter within its walls is freed from the Stone. The babalon, the gateway, between the realm of man and the realm of the gods is formed in the craning of her soft neck as she whispers of above and below. Her palms form the cat's cradle into a grail, the grail on her forehead and strewn beneath her feet. The water and the earth are silently married into a Tsunami.
Is the princess truly free?
