It smells like rain today The sweet scent of fruit Golden rays Gone Now just the smog of cars And the washed-out sky As we long for the days where the gods roamed free Nectar dripping from our lips And gold once ran in our veins
Snow brings to earth the ash footsteps of Titans, Winter in its giant vacancy of bygone strides, The overthrown birth of frost mother and sky, ~The snow proselytizes all our warm tomorrows~ But the totality of loss lies like a starved lion, Paws crossed, staring at the cold changeling-world, As a young white-tailed Springbok ages into distance.
A Springbok is a white-tailed antelope found in Africa.
In the infinite ocean of light above the world, the epp and tide of consciousness unfold. Where ignorance and liberation in elemental forces struggle, the inertia of life with it its tenaciously fears, desires and miracle. The same awakening forces extend into the matrix of potencies, for all redemption and bliss of eternities. The shallow region are the domain of manipulative Titans severe, mythology in its universal language must be there. In the depth of lights and and concentrated dignities of true vision, aspiring tranformation changes the chaos to enlighten decission. The de-evolutionary force in ever confilct with the ascending evolution, the warring and complementary strain of divine conclusion. The day and night in different Devas light, and many hues of characters twilight in its unique of might.
I was so in love With what we had made That any sense of sufferance Of punishment For my actions Became an utterance, stayed. Lost in my satisfaction that I had given you something far lighter; I was so in love, Stolen, a divine fire, Like Prometheus.
Winter emerges, as I grief for something that was forcefully taken away from me. I'm the one who rises from the sea, I control the currents; the waves thrash with the mere mention of my name. The earth tremors at my wake. I'm not made up of angelic grace, I have thunder brewing within my veins. Don't be fooled by my innocent face, I may appear harmless but I was born tainted with the blood of Hades. I seek no redemption, for I'm the judge who sits on the grand pedestal. My violence knows no bounds, It shoots and kills And in this game, no survivors are allowed So my blood reeks of vengeance And my soul seethes, As all the gory deeds and sacrifices fuel up my needs. I'm the chaos, the primordial entity that brought you into being. None of the gods can ever catch me, for I'm just a mirage, I appear to be close but I'm always far out of reach.
one leaf left conjoined, on the last tree in the entire world that was planted not only in the barren desert but also in the midst of an eternal sandstorm that ravaged and blinded any earthling organism that was brave enough to ask for a taste. except one man was blind enough already, and his shaggy gray dreadlocks shielded his weak spots while he trudged on for miles in his balaclava, listening for the wind in the closest space to crack and give a sign. and then there was the tree – not flowing in the wind but solidifying into stone as the clock struck 15,000 years and the leaf blew away and drained the secrets from its roots and locked them away for the Titans to find. the man was 2,000 miles away, and he had just run out of water in the desert when he realized that the shift was happening already. so he laid down and packed the sand on nicely and waited patiently for the Titans to take him under and ask him questions about life up above.