"What is this greenery that I see? Is it possible that it's more beautiful than Isonomia? It is wondrous; yet it lies beyond our walls. Why would the leaders of the city keep us blinded from this beauty?"


Isonomia
Book II: Outside


A ladder?
On my regular trip to the market;
With barrels of wheat;
I saw something neat.

With rungs of steely rope,
And chains of gold glow in the sun.
It reaches to the height of our walls.

Why?
Why is this in placement?
What should I seek?
Isn't our city only the truth?

Climb?
And disobey the leaders and perfect plans?
In search for knowledge
Rung by rung?

Beauty.
At the height of the ladder;
I saw greenery,
I saw life, not machinery.

Why must the leaders hide the rolling hills?

Low-Hanging Tree
Part II


I set out with a strong tune,
And a thick beat in my heart.
My goal in life is visible,
And my pathway lies ahead.
But yet I find myself aware
Of seaspray on my face.
But I know there's nothing there,
My pathway lies ahead.

I'll find the low-hanging tree,
The clouds.
As I imagine in my head.

Cosmogony
Part IV


I looked at Earth,
The people panicked;
In search of knowledge,
That I've founded.
What I could be,
If they could spot it.
What life might be,
If it was Gnostic.

Across the ocean's dome,
Controlled by piercing shouts without a doubt;
On an altar in the distance:
An open book with censored words!
Tear a page,
Observe the rage.
Not what any freedom fighter would.

In a rowboat in the open,
Draw the source of their devotion.
Pencil sketch the jagged beard,
And stretch the nose a thousand years.

What a time to strike some fear!

The terrorists will echo with madness,
The pen is your sword.
The innocent will run to the forests,
And the artists make war.

Across the desert homes,
Contained by giant seas to some degree;
In a planetary orbit:
A crying team with crooked teeth!
See the page,
The winds enrage.
Not what any freedom lover should.

Bullets charge at the comedian's door,
Burning down all the carpenter's lore.
Sculptors mourne over severed stones,
The innocent turn, yearn, learn...

The invasions form, warn, and burn.

As the terrorists echo with madness,
Hold the pen as your sword.
As the innocent run to the forests,
Let the artists make war.

Throw the drawings ashore!

The water rises,
And I awaken in the dark of the tunnel stream.
The lights have vanished,
And my perception is lost.

As my eyes are open;
Home to view these ancient walls.
In paintings, I have only seen
These deathly catacomb halls.

My lights awaken,
The water shaken.
Gone are the hooded paintings; stolen
From the dephs of the catacomb halls.

From the doctrines of space and nature,
I paint the walls with answers
To guide the ancients who rebuilt the city.
Once more, the water rises.
One more, another body
To flow through the tunnel stream.

Orion
Part IV


We know what we see,
Once we conclude it.
We hear what we hear
When it reaches our ears.
Unless distorted;
Through a mirror,
We converse.
Our roads will be walked on again,
If we're peers.

The Kingdoms of the Mountain Cross
Part I


Praise to the king,
As light shows upon he.
Life can't be without
All the leaders we bring.
As part of the plan,
Divine rule underhand.
Life can't lack its choice,
As taught by the king.

Lymeria
Part II


You must think in this way,
And shall think only truth.
You cannot dream at all,
If the Lord has not called.
You must warm by the fires,
And follow our will!
For if you learn to doubt,
You will not see the hills.

Part II: Searching Waters

Upon the floating papers being referenced by the breeze,
Upon the starving creatures in a search for refuge.

In light of coming nature,
Despite the future cold.

Watch her magic on the creatures
To survive as the grow old.

Cosmogony
Part I


Entire cities blown through ages,
The people swarm,
In search of pages.
what life was within the garden,
Gnosticism was not pardoned.

This music box,
I can't believe,
Destroyed my wingless flying aim.
In the sky, the strings from Hell,
Suppress my need to pray and yell.

My Heaven's gate is locked with gold,
And my mindless snakes awaken...
Rising from below.

If they just had a teacher, maybe...
They could seek to love. One day...
We could fly above.

"You and me,
We were one.
What happened to the times we worked as such?
Our old machines fell into dust.
I have our mind, but I need some arms...
To break the heavens' golden lock.

I don't know much,
But I know my heart...
And unlike you it has not left me.
I have never known anything but...
The passion it has given me,
It is time to be risen!"

I am tired of living!
It is time to start dying...
Ascending!

"Let us build a machine to turn us to dust!
To let us be risen... released finally from this form.
I have been waiting for you, shadow.
I have the power, and you have the strength
To build a contraption and tear a hole in the sky."

A Billion Stories
Book I: The Wreckage
Part III: Spirit Sightings



The knife in my hand,
The dreading souls seek;
Vengeance, really is all they plead,
For what I see is heaven's peak;
A knife can't harm a forest.

I can't say how I'm feeling,
But this feeling isn't right.
I was reminded last time
Why I'm staying home tonight.

My views are contradicting
Their feeling of what's right.
Their words cannot convince me,
As they're failing to provide.

It is with hope,
My words convince you
As I give my reason why.
It is not yours to decide
The outcome of my plight.

Smoke fills the air,
They whisper prayers.
Uninvolved, I stand up tall.
What I was taught are not the laws,
I will stay home all night long.

Coexistence
V


What did they see?
They felt disbelief.
What didn't they know?
My clearness was shown.

What didn't they see?
A world beyond their peaks.
What I could have owned,
That struck them unknown?

What I've failed to see;
What they've failed to believe.
They brought forth their ignorance,
Bestowed upon me.

Motionless, I lay.
Surrounded by ghosts of ice.
Spiritless, I venture.
And cleverness,
I display.

Part IV: Strings Through Face


How it works is far beyond me,
But what it holds my eyes can capture.
Twist the knobs and find the right keys,
Twist the knobs and my face is captured.

I have no face.
I cannot see but I still wonder.
My eyes are gone.
Where is the lightning?
As I hear the thunder.

This music box ate my face alive!
Stringing out my sight!
Where are you?

Tearing off my nares!
Who are you!

Sewing close my jaw!
Why are you...

My face is lost!
Father, my face is gone!
I need another...
This music box defiles my slumber!

Father!
Do you hear my calls?
My face is lost father, where did I go wrong?

The air around is dead,
I cannot let it in.
My voice outside cannot be said,
But I need an answer...

Feeling down?
There's one way out.
Inclusion will bring you back to life.
You will never break apart,
Now consume like the rest. Be like the rest.
In exchange for your life force, you will be given the best.
In a brief moment you will be presented with supplements.
Take all that you want until your smile returns.
Wash them down with coffee and alcohol,
And show everyone that your smile's returned.
Now you can resume your desires and functions,
And remain happy... like everyone else...
Human.

The Kingdoms of the Mountain Cross
Part II


A household full of work and sleep,
The children play in the wheat.
I lower my head in the sunset,
How could my life be ever so sweet?

A Billion Stories
Book II: The Human
Part III: Telescopic


My mind is searching,
As it seems.

Star-speckled blackness
I can't see.

The Kingdoms of the Mountain Cross
Part VI


Our numbers lessened,
For every step.
And our resources were very sparse.
Will I live to see the Mountain Cross,
And be joyful to walk in the sand?

Then all at once,
The people stopped.
They thought that their eyes had deceived them.

Ahead was the Bridge in the west.

The children ran to play in the sand,
And the people found food,
Not starvation.
They rose and built their cities high,
And danced near their fires at night.

Our ashes washed off in the ocean,
And our tales of light,
Were ever so bright.

A Billion Stories
Book III: Conclusions
Part III: The Doubtful Little Fish


Mama?
May I peek beyond the line of the waters?
Papa?
Might I see the source of the light in the seas?
For what purpose is land if its borders are foreign?
For what purpose is light if its maker is sheet?
For what purpose is life if it starts in a reef? 
Does death wait on the shoreline?
Or does a fellow who greets?

Forces unbeknownst to me await behind the heaven's gate,
And my father... a figure in the clouds, whose image calls so loud...
The ward who kept me under lock and key,
Who gifted me a script I could not read:
A set of prison bars too high for me to reach.

This grand composer of the songs and strings,
As I grow closer, turns around and seems...

Terrified... of me? My father runs, my chorus has begun.

So much to see, but the shadow...
The shadow strung with greed.
My shadow... whom I cannot leave.
Striketh other worlds with swords and lashes on a quest to mold!

My father runs. No! What have I unleashed?
A chaos tree with spinning clockwork leaves.
All I wanted was to breathe, but my breath moves mountains,
Feel, my breath that floods the ocean floor.
I am drowning.
Drowning in this music box's open sea.

Lymeria
Part VI


I awaken,
With sand in my eyes.
And wonderment is in my mind.
I've come upon the fabled Lymeria,
And I, for once, am surprised.

The mountains, as told, were shining of gold,
And the oceans were diamonds untold.

The rainbows were vivid with color,
And the forests were vivid with life.

I've come across,
A legend lost,
The twelve islands of Lymeria.

I know that I
Am no longer confined,
And I realize I've now lived my life.

I see the spheres of my own eyes,
And I notice the stars in the sky.
My youth is still timed,
And I eat from the trees,
My purpose has entered my life.

Soon I know, I'll take a flight,
Through the borders of Earth uncharted.
Soon, I know, that I will find,
And idealize the meanings of life.

See their heights of architecture,
Manufactories and telescopes,
Venturing onwards to what they can see.

Encountering the wise men,
Mistakably ambitious.

Justifying their plan, they
Solute to their integrity.
Utilizing machinery,
Now they finally see.

Passed was the opportunity of their species.

Dire fires threaten dire paintings,
Set by dire men, defending dire idols
Who tied their hands to the crescent moon.

War broke out in the studio,
Getting further from the truth.

Blazing through the skies above,
From deserted continents,
They cook the dove.

"Down with the towers,
Blow the roof!
Down with the active streets,
And those with minds aloof!"

Yet in the battle halls,
A canvas there for eyes in awe,
While behind the towers fall,
The pen is drawn,
The pennons bawl.

Yet echoing through the city streets,
The innocent fall to the ground,
As fires set upon the town!
The pennons show a winning streak,
By force while their emotions leak.

"Down with the warlords,
Let us draw!
Down with the active planes,
And deadly bombs!"

Between the clash of different laws,
From above,
A single sheet sinks down unharmed.
Flowing through the blackened fog,
Gracefully, it mocks the sacred hog.

"I know this guy who sought divine,
And was believed to speak His lines.
He lost this truth by middle-life,
But through his lies he claimed a wife.

"Don't let him gaze upon your children,
Fight his old-age desperation.
Spill the ink to blind his vision,
Tie his hands to the crescent moon."

Battle cries and splitting shots were silenced,
Even spitting fires ceased to whisper.
As the graceful insults fell aground,
Laughter struck the once conflicting crowd!

Orion
Part I


In the corners of streets,
The men look and they see.
In the heart of the square,
No one feels their despair.
In the mystery of space,
It is there, it is there.
A single flame learns to embrace in it's truth.
A jester might doubt what he sees,
Yes he sees.
The gardeners leave an amount of such proof.
For I know and I love the stars of Orion.

A part of me became a fiend;
A treasurer that left my sleeves
To find the shiny end to all his dreams.

The flying of his lash upon the sphere
Has caused my own to go numb.

Twisted fingers wilting in the sun,
Prying apart the singing Son of Heads
With all his bleeding life; he was found dead.

A proud disease was born a sheep.
Guided by a shepherd's hand to show its face across the desert sand
Until he dropped the leash.
Wild poison spilled upon the civil streets.

A Billion Stories
Book III: Conclusions
Part III: The Snake of Enlightenment


Let him think!
Let him, have seen!
Beauty should not be an opposable thing!
Wisdom is greatness! 
Go hide from the group!
My love is not laughter,
My love is for truth!
Don't bid farewell to everything!
Don't look at the scene in reverse!
And let wisdom be shown,
But not only for words!

Orion
Part II


Beyond my view of comprehension;
The questions of mine,
The eye of the jigsaw.
Above the stars of three demensions;
The blade of a saw,
Man surrounded by awe.
Magical wires
They move as they think.
The People of Grand
May scatter like lead and ink.
The Monsters of Earth
Run away, I won't seek.
For I have not seen the stars of Orion.

O' music box,
With many strings,
Why imprison me?
Why cast your blades across the steely sky?
I must away, but you force me to stay.

When I was a boy, I saw unleashed upon you,
With my young eyes,
A proud disease.

My friend was sick; I could not heal him,
So all I could was smash and bash him.
He would not die, I did not cry,
For I was lost to my own music making box.

"Father, what is this gift? A toy?"
Asked I the living wandering boy.
"How does it work?"
Like death, my youngest self should have foreseen.

Stillness. There is no fire causing havoc in the forest.
There is no floodwater to wash away the dirt it rests upon,
Screaming a song. The birds are mellow.
The squirrels are hiding. My back rests against a maple tree.
Imagination is free, but bound by peaceful things.
My thoughts can wander freely, but the woods are dull.
Can you sing me a song? My plots fall flat.
Falling... though an endless void. There is only black.
This mind is useless if my tales are null.
I already drowned the rabbit hole.
Silence. I already egged the nests,
And boulders keep the bears at rest.
They're sleeping. The woods are sleeping. The trees still standing,
And I'm still humming this same old tune.

A proud disease indeed forgot its home,
Attacked its cherished shelves;
Inflicting flames upon its tomes.

A child swore to slay the host,
But his ageless mind has grown old,
and shapeless face has new hope.

This world he's always known with costly stones lay burried now beneath the singing strings,
And under the sea within these winding keys,
Leaving my steely prayers opposed!

This world I've always known has tarnished under a toxic pearly gate,
These songs I've come to hold corrupted by this poisoned shape.
As stillness kills, I must escape!

My armless form enclosed,
As my skyward craft arose.

This music box aglow with hate!
Screaming a tune to fix my broken fate!
I am contained.

This music box,
That beat my rocket tame.

A fool trapped under my ancient wrath withers.
He shouts but not a sound is heard.
He grabs but nothing registers.
His world is grave and I cannot show it.
He is depraved but he cannot know it.

This man is a spark and he can't set a fire.
This fire would burn a hole in the sky.
If he somehow escapes he'll be living up higher,
So, he must be contained in a rotting state.

The air is full of dust.
The chairs are rotting, creaking planks of wood.
The roof can cave in, given the right moment to expose the sun–
The heating sun that beats upon this sickly place.

My family's faces were eaten alive by termites, infesting the photo frames,
And a flicker of the lights puts this sleeping place to bed,
Where it belongs had I the right ideas inside my head.

If I was any wiser I would leave at once without a twist of neck.
I would run away and maybe change my name.
I'd never think of looking back...

Yet here I am unwise. The floor is *******, never rubbed or rinsed,
And populated by more wallpaper than the walls.
From the bathroom leaks a familiar yet appauling smell.

My family's faces were eaten, deceased, by maggots.
My dad drowned in the bathtub, and my brother in the sink.
My mother lifeless on the bed because she was confused for steak.
My uncle always said to me that luxury is for the saved.
As for the rest there is no other place to go,
Because my home is at the grave.

You have wings,
Now learn to fly!
All you've known are your own skies.
Forget the hallowed lands of ash!

Expand your tools,
Above your past.

Greenery
Part II


I took a bite,
The fruits of life,
A shuffle sounds beyond my eye;
I'm in disguise.
Wires bends into my mind,
My gears do not collide.
I know not how to name my find...

I saw bestowed,
Upon his gold,
This monster chasing me with old.
I tried to run,
I could not hide;
Omnipresence is his guide.
The circling worlds are spinning behind.

Traveling a rocky shore,
In spite of waves that threaten.

Carried deep into the sea,
Into a lapse of memory.

As darkness pulls my very soul
The deep can't slay my fate.
Lost in all its meaning,
While I see my final day.

Awakened by the truth,
As I stare in much confusion.
Struggling to stand,
And to see through blinding light.

Beckoning me onwards even further
through the ocean,
As I struggle in its wake to see the source of mystic beauty.

I follow to the homelands,
Where the birth of man has happened.
Staring in amazement at the sunken ancient islands.
Enlightened in the truth of life,
My travel has been ended.

A Billion Stories
Book III: Conclusions
Part I: Unified Field Theory


Created by love,
Created by magic,
Created by mercy
The venom is tragic.
Pull the threads,
Roll the yarn;
Sew the man to understand.
Let him love,
Let him wilt,
Let him speak and
Let him think.
Do not tell, 
Keep me hidden,
Let him find out for himself.

Encompassing the limelight,
Is the sweeter sense on Earth.
Gaze upon the sunlit paths,
Forever in their stay.

Life forms walk their fruitful ways,
Are they to witness judgement day?

Architecture, and distant waves,
I'm he to judge their progress made.