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I feel the temperature fall. a swirl of air carries a change of color, and a lengthening of shadow; The smell of life and death, vitality and rot, come to visit my time of day. a peaceful moment behind a castle; at the bottom of a mountain where granite lines and shadows define the trees that wave to the wind. The union of nature and man stands out vibrant and alive. I think of the ocean and the million lights on the waves as the salt soothes my nose and the sound of crashing water mixes with the wind as music for sir sol's daily curtain call. Pink is the mountain whose snow shows us the late day color and you wish the moment to last until it begins again tomorrow. |
Ascend and fly free, away, and far before, ever more, to be around and alone, forever to never be. And of course again a small luminescent cloud sails toward the west as the sun rises. The plain is in its oranges, not the reds of sunset and the rocks in our circle have a glint of mica; through the paint, our god has peeked above the horizon. I wish today my mark is true and the hunt is in my favor. |
To see a gleam of light on a drop of water or feel the cold sting your nose perhaps the feeling of sitting in the grass in the morning before the dew has had a chance to dry or maybe the smell of dirt after a hard day's play or the way the ground looks when it's time to go in but you can't bear the thought of ending something that you know deep down will never happen again. |
blue and orange, a small insect writhes above the table, above my mind it stretches out, toward another room I feel it moving on my arm. I don't know him or even care to say a word I won't save him, but maybe I should try Oh, I think I'll just put him in my mouth and swallow. A cascade of light surrounds me and pulses with the force of glamour for the insane and misinformed a blank people evil in their intention motionless in their anonymity Alive, I feel above, beside, behind the lie of supermen the brutality of the deep deep dark recesses of my mind. A swirl of orange and red flame rises through falling drops of water so clear, clean, an explosion as heat washes through my mind, my brow, my hand becomes stone and clay again one with the earth one with the wood it holds invisible to the eye, solid in its touch to tell the dark scribble of worm like thoughts rising in a cloud, a cloud of time a movement of circles, and infinity ageless yet old, nights of black with fire in plumes rising in sparks cluttering the sky.
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The scent of killing fireflies permeates every pore of an eternal desert I won't be fooled by sincerity of life becoming old of monarchs and kings arising to take the responsibility for the decline and failure of a social catastrophe I feel the chill and cold motion of a final breath exasperation humiliation failure and concrete before life can leave resolution |
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Time away from the sun is time spent in scarlet mystery of life, love and simple pleasures of a mind obsessed with the possessions of others and a wolf cries an unborn pup to sleep while a man circles a worn hand over a flame, a sun, a mystery and chants of a purpose for man's life |
[Cover | Surroundings | Creativity | Darkness | Life | Nature | Love | Peace | Epilogue]
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