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The Sovereign of Songbirds
Has been roused
Emitting layers of harmony
Borne of exultation, borne of woe, and
Reverberating in the Key of Elysium

Let your dreams guide you.
As the fulgent daystar
Dawns upon your starry spirit,
The musicality, the euphony of amour
Will abide within.

Soar unto the stratosphere,
For the limitlessness of flight
Belongeth to
The earthen vessel waxing ethereal;
Furthermore, it is only achieved through self-transcendence.

Ye are Children of Manumission;
Therefore, fulminate from sea to shining sea
Until the obsidian of hate
Descends into Magisterial Oblivion
Arising anew as The Element of Freedom.

The Requiem of the Revenant shall rise,
The Maw of Darkness will fall;
Ultimately, the Paean of Light will
Resound upon the four corners
Of the Terraqueous Mother.

(Se' lah)
Excelsior Forevermore,

Sanders Maurice Foulke III

04/07/2021
Pyrrha Nov 2020
My life feels like it's hanging by a thread
I've pushed away all my stress and worry
And now it surrounds me everywhere I look
It's like I'm tight-roping over the river of Styx
And all my fears, concerns and doubts
Are reaching for me
Like desperate hungry hands
Searching for their relief
Like the hands of those souls
Begging for a release

But where exactly is my relief?
Where does the end of this rope land?
Tartarus or the Elysian Fields?
Will I make it to my Elysium
Or will I bathe in the sea of souls?
Will I bear the Curse of Achilles
Or will I be trapped there myself?
All the worries that surround me
Make me feel like diving in
Isn't so bad
lua Jun 2020
When I blinked, the fires were gone and so were you

And for the longest time
I walked along the shores
Aimlessly
Panting and shoulders heavy
As the sound of the river's currents followed my every step
The coarse dirt and sand felt like a thousand needles pricking the soles of my feet
The black sun rises high in the skies
Sweat rolls down the apples of my cheeks

When I called your name, what echoed back was only my voice
Coarse and rough from exhaustion
From the dust and smoke that choked me
When the fires began to burn

I shut my tired eyes
And I try to imagine your face
But all I see is the smokey sillhouette
You left behind

I wandered and wandered
And with each aching step,
My knees shake like jelly
Weak, as they buckled
In the corner of my eye I see Charon's boat
His tall looming figure clutching the handle of a paddle
Hunched over, murmuring
As his eyes follow me like the currents of the river
All knowing
I felt transparent
And they were the last things I saw
Before my face met the ground
With a thud.









I rise to the sound of rushing water

My eyes flutter open
To see nothing but a grey haze
I lay
Unmoving
As water drifts my motionless body in gentle currents
And when shore hits my back
I stand
The blades of grass tickling my skin
Prickling my flesh

Where am I?

And I see it
The outline of a figure
Walking through the fog
Sitting atop a jagged rock's edge
As the sun peaked through
Its thick wall of clouds

And it's beautiful

It almost looked like you.
part 5
finale
Monday, January 27th, 2020

The crux of spiritual efflorescence originates from the seat of the soul. The self is the nexus to transcendence. Humanity has historically looked outside of itself for the change it hopes to sire.
        
We must ameliorate our ailed cognition before our words can wax healing. When we genuinely ease the suffering within, light shall exude & emanate from our entities. Therefore, introspection, a spiritual mandate, is enquired from the firmaments.
      
Though pain can at times burnish a fervid sting upon our sensory crux, we must allow this to penetrate us fully. Before the healing can genuinely burgeon, angst must take its course. Moreover, layers of hurt must be processed before reaching our luminescent heart.
      
The Heavensward loves us aeonically so: Jah, the Cosmo- Plexus of Empyreal Love. Therefore, trust that in the silence of solitude, our spirits will be dovetailed with the Most High God. The Great Apothecary knows our maladies. The God of Freedom is also conscious of the instant upon which to unfurl manumission.
      
Liberty, or much of freedom, finds its inception upon the Mind's Sky. How can we be free unless we truly fathom it to be? What a fallacy, a probabilistic impossibility! Without awareness, one cannot seize that which is rightfully —their birthright.
      
Trust that you are free and always be just so. When you do, no soul will be able to expostulate otherwise. Belief, therefore, is power, is emancipation.
      
Love endlessly. Liberty never leaves the one who bathes in the Baptistery of Esprit d' Amour. Know your worthiness to honor, heartsease, what's more, the grace, the virtue, & the excellency of life. Carry on, surrender naught, fight the fine fight, run fully the race. —Se' lah.


Rise Heavensward,

Transcend fear & doubt,

Banish all hesitation,

Elysium is Within,
"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

-Anaïs Nin

"Now Jehovah is the Spirit, and where the spirit of Jehovah is, there is freedom."

-2nd Corinthians 3: 17

“A man is not called wise because he talks and talks again; but if he is peaceful, loving and fearless then he is in truth called wise.”

-Gautama Buddha

"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love."

1st John 4:18



By Sanders Maurice Foulke III
Monday, November 11th, 2019

The pain in loss can be a deleterious scourge, undoing all the threads of light embedded in the heart. Who am I to contend with the ethereal tides of the cosmos? A juvenescent soul enrapt mine entity for but a moment, yet, soon thereafter, he was gone. Vanquished by the Winds of Undoing, he may never re-alight upon my soulscape; however, I must go on. Let dreams illumine the fulgent irides you are starry-eyed to see.

I must trust that all things are working out for their highest good. In me are all the answers that I seek; we are our own nexus to transcendence. Will I ever see him again? I am without certainty, but I shall arise triumphantly. Tears may yearn to cascade my countenance, but I will waxeth impregnable apropos of the deluge of sadness.

Who am I? I am the emblematization, the insignia of love. Christ truly abides within each one of us. If I am to truly attain my Apex Monumental, I must undergo tremendous sufferings; therefore, ne’er fathom that suffering is thine undoing, ―tis your making.

Press onward valiant warrior, love shall open every doorway. One day, thine Ultima Thule shall manifest itself before your eyes; moreover, the patriarch you never had shall be found in the Arbiter of Fates above. Never give up young one, for you are aeonically loved. Wisdom, Love, Justice, Power and all the virtues vested in this cosmos shall teem within thine vessel.

Sanctity is perhaps a notion, a theistic & ratiocinatively deific dogma. I fathom it an inordinately exclusive fallacy that maketh one feel holier than his brethren. Was any man or woman foreordained above any other? And if so, were they given not a privilege, but a duty? An anointing means one is set apart for a higher purpose, not a lionizing gasconade.

“He who dares to teach must never cease to learn.” It is true that the erudite has immense gift, but they likewise carry profundity of mandated travail. In each one of us, lie the answers we seek; therefore, we must introspect & retrospect in order to circumspect. We must search and seek, in order to find. Let the one who knocketh, have it revealed unto them, have it opened.

∞(Se’ Lah)∞


Excelsior Forevermore,


Sanders Maurice Foulke III
"He who dares to teach must never cease to learn."

-A Sapient Soul

“When the student is ready, the master appears.”

-Buddhist Axiom

“The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.”

–Socrates
AD Letwixt Oct 2018
Sands and seashells as white as moonlit night
And water tugging slightly at the small boats
Trembling in the wake

“Far across the silvery sea”
Those little waves whisper to me
“From ocean dark and brooding blue, cross horizons bleeding red
is a land where the mists travel languidly through
and dangerous things betwixt the paths you tread.”

“There is a city that some say glows in the night
Whose towers ***** to glorious height
Domes and great structures stand below
Upon white stones, blue moonlight does glow.”

“If you swim out during the brooding storm
And torrential city make, with towers of black swirling wake
The sea will take and change your form
You will enter the depth and the depth will enter you
And sea imbued, you emerge anew.”

“On the second day, and the crest of red rising light
When Phoenix fly against the night
You will be ****** from water by the fiery wing
And to a new land take you as Phoenix songs it softly sings.”

“There you will encounter the dangers and things of strange delight
And the white walls of Elyse, whose light is cast upon the height.”
Andrew L Manson Feb 2018
She is the reason for the world behind your eyes,
that imaginary reality of your Elysian field.
The warmth of her smile,
the furtive soil of her thighs,
a whisp of her voice enough to make you yield.

These walls, so carefully erected,
crumble and fall where they stand,
to your core you are dissected
by a mere touch of her hand.

Yet, you do not shy away, on the contrary
you long for her, yearn for her heart
no matter how vulnerable and weary
it is better to die, than to be apart.

“Oh, my love! “Tread carefully on this soul,
or tear it to pieces if you were so to choose”.
“For you hold the entire world in your hands
and I, I don’t care what I might lose”.
Juju Sep 2017
R. I. P. poi,
They said.
I wasn't sure what that meant.
You face only vaguely familiar.
Then I walked in to school...

Twas no ghost town,
Twas the town of dead.
Sullen forms gliding along.
So I wasn't down with grief.
But I somehow felt like I'd blasphemed.

We'd walked the over same grass.
Been taught by the same teachers.
Bumped
into each other.

Yet you were faceless to me.
No name,
No memory,
Only guilt.

Maybe you felt like me,
In the lands of Hades.
Walking through asphodel.

Nay.
From what I hear:
You walk Elysium.
To young a man I regret not knowing
Michael Briefs Aug 2017
The mazy pattern spins upon
The murky enclosure.
The process emerges as
Watery words written, interlaced,
Across the fleshy frame.
A fleeting impression of
Ephemeral inscriptions
Dancing and enticing my mind
To immersed submissions.
Anxious pulse slows,
Cooling blood flows
In sympathetic resonance;
My breath lilts, feathery,
And the room, lustrous, grows.

As light surfaces, giving
Clarity to the liquid lexis
That swirls around, I begin
To see the hypnotic signs,
Coaxing my soul
To a heady delirium!
But the ethos is pure alterity,
And the shapes start to change.
The fluent verses that encircled me --  
Messages of reassurance,
Poems of perpetual peace,
Prompting me to repose,
Calling me to release --
Now shift and bleed
Into a color-blur, so strange!

Once recognizable,
The patterns now appear as
Iridescent waves of a gnosis, primordial.
The intuitive takes hold.

In this floating state of acceptance,
Those dreamy streams pull me to Elysium:  
Visions shimmer of verdant gardens unending,
Acoustics of astonishing life
Jabbering in response, ascending!
The proud Peacock stands,
The wild Quetzal soars!
Is this moment virtual? Is this identical?
I am drawn into a dreamland
Carried from my sentient core.

All will to resist dilutes to
Diffuse and opaque defection.
The eternal elements of existence
Intrude and disperse any mean ambition.

Breath. Sight. Vibration. Light.
Bathed in a serene sea my soul would chart.
Knowledge without thought.
Instinct without provocation.
Flight within the cavernous enclosure
Of my trembling heart.

I am in balance above the abyss,
I am a fixed crystal corpus.
The liquid lyrics of Supreme love
Are interlaced and have become
A spark of pristine existence.
Miraculous codes of new life branch forth
To a seminal universe of expression.

From that murky domain, the excellent
Utterance of my existence becomes clear.
The gospel of the soul’s translation sends its
Proclamation when the muse appears!
I am not sure if this one is quite finished yet, but here goes!
I cannot recall the last time that I didn't feel completely alone
For once a human has fully submitted to death
Whether there is an after or a life after

It can never be a beating heart
A warm body
A breathing organism
Or a functional mind again

It floats in Elysium
Never living but never dying
Alone in the barren land
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