Walking along the shores of a great ocean
Natures creativity witnessed in motion
The huge waves fall upon the closing reefs
People searching for treasures, greedy ocean thieves
Pearls, coral, fish, ocean creatures of all kinds
Scientist proved wealth underwater, a great find
But nature also has created deadly weapons
Only seen when unforeseen accidents happen
Devil's triangle, surprising whirlpool, a sinkhole
***** in everything within its perimeter hold
Stories I've heard once been told
Mysteries of places, from the pages, unfold
Every creature has its own world guarded
On land, air or underwater as regarded
Man stay on boarders to retain safety and peace
Ocean dwellers have open trenches for enemies to leap
Yet bold minded humans bypass such amenities
To takeover underwater world,
                         no matter how harsh the calamities
Lives lost, lessons learnt many
No one wants to learn from the past,
                         people hungry for ancient penny...

©sim

Colors of my imagination
Grow constantly within my mind,
Prosperous world I once created
Dragged into elder forces' fight.

The darkest matter of Ruination
Tries to destroy my universe,
But cosmic echoes of Creation
Have counterpoused their ancient force.

The oldest forces combat wildly -
There wasn't any fight like that,
The streams of power spinning blindly -
Arising essence of black shade.

The new stars' substance is arising,
From this new essence of pure dark,
Now millions of worlds are shining,
And billion fires have been sparked.

A thousand years passed after battle,
I ask its shadows (they're alive):
"How could chaotic fight to end up,
In giving birth to purest life?"

("We've witnessed universe creation,
We've seen a strength of spectral knights,
Bringing a life to new dimension
Requires energies' collapse...")

Shadows retreat - to constellations,
Last time I see the new worlds' light,
This picture - my imagination,
It's getting bleak like nighttime sky.

(inspired by Decrepit Birth and Blut Aus Nord)

Sere and yellow,
Rough and round, [bright pebbles in a mound]
Pitted and mellow,
Winding our necks round,
We wore them.

Amber beads unearthed from clay,
Fashioned by my artist love,
Glowing yellow, filled with day,
Captures sunbeams from above.
I still love them.

Some say gods have made these,
To ensnare the light of Sun,
But we women saved these,
In memory & hope of sons,
We keep them.

Fat & smooth as butter,
We turned them in our hands.
The bone beads scraped with madder,
The amber just with sand.

Those of shadowy carnelian
Embedded like a shield,
We treasure as we fear them,
Like wounds on battlefields.

The others soaked with brownish earth,
Sere and yellow,
Rough and round, [bright pebbles in a mound]
Pitted and mellow,
Winding our necks round,
We wore them.

So, when we are dead, take not from us,
These rounded, golden suns,
But bury them with us, with sword and severed buss,
To revere the slaughtered ones,
Who never returned to us.

Revised November 15, 2016

They attacked her in mid exploration
Cutting away her golden thoughts
As they cut away her flesh, destroying
A mind that they couldn’t destroy in
Debate, a sparkling old woman
Whose thoughts were spun from steel.

The screaming mob desecrated her tiny form
Dragging it into the dust, through the *******
And ****. Tearing off her clothes
The Parabalani exposed her to celestial winds crossing
The arora, rubbing
Spoilt Alexandrian soil into her unexplored ******.  
She did not die as a philosopher, calculating and
Learning, but, torn apart, the old woman
Screamed out for her father,
Terrified, in sacrificial pain so much worse
Than beheadings and crucifixion. Her modesty,
Kept for 60 years, mutilated by a 1000 killers in a single
Minute.

Her head bounced in the forum,
Her arms thrown to the 4 corners,
Her soul stamped into the gutter,
As the new religion cried out for tolerance.
In a morning thinking became forbidden
Books burnt, laughs ignored and fires built for heretics.

In the ancient ages of our story,
Long lost on the storm-tossed sea of time,
Mystics, Shamen, Seers, Poets, and Prophets
Pointed to paths leading to survival,
Vital roads for our guides to find.
Lo, our progress came through
The purge of many perils.
In the grip of that troubled existence,
Our visionaries found the way forth
From a plague of deadly terrors.

Born out of the feverish tumult of the mystic Wild-man
Or the symbolic song of a Tribal Priestess,
Came words of hope and vision.
Their inner-light was a primordial premonition, stoking
The courage to make our daunting decisions.
Their mind’s eye pierced the veil, striking
Lightning catalysts into a forest of fascination,
To ignite the strength we must bring to fruition!

We clung to their words as we clung to each other,
And heard their call to mission.
We allowed the signs of their ecstasy to gestate
Within our souls; words woven into myths
To bear the fruit of immortal imagination!
Out of this flame came the hard-won wisdom of our people,
Our embryonic culture, and the seeds of our salvation.

We traveled on in the grip of a darkened world and
Survived together, confirmed by a shared oath.
The tree of humanity’s fragile hope must take root,
To fulfill its future growth.

We are an Ark-people, a covenant people,
A people of deep foundations.
We take that light, that fire, and
That power into our destiny,
Striking wild and true within!

May the ineffable Creator bless our steps,
Secure our path, inspire our faith,
And anoint our hearts for the road ahead,
Beyond…

And it’s coming.
It’s going to come around.
The night is getting shorter
and our attentions' getting narrower.
The moon is getting brighter.
The eastern’s presence is getting closer.

And we’ll search and search
in cup of gold seas.
And we’ll search and search
in camel sand dunes;
in moments all alone
with aplomb, long gone
Ancient crews.

Then the coming
Glaring sunrise.
They’ll see us and hate us.
But mostly they’ll have
unwavering awe, respect, and fear of us.