Saturday, 9 December 2017

Among All Angels



In this realm, in this fallen realm, to know truth is to live always with horror; isolated, shaken, doubtful of the conviction with which one set upon the guardian's path.  Seers broken, innocence defiled and consumed, wisdom twisted and turned against all peoples.  I have seen angels fall, great spirits of light made monstrous and obsidian.  My love, my breath, I have watched as memories and knowings were stolen from the eyes of the guardians who came here to protect such knowings.  My brothers and sisters hollowed and slain, though many of them still walk.  And they wonder why I weep?  Oh, sunken stars, what they call history is now an utter nonsense.  A parasitic stratagem devoid of all warmth.  And still you think you are closer to the truth than not.  Oh, sweet one.  My beloved one, the earth and sky was once connected. It is not only an ancient deceit that feeds now upon the soul of our brethren.  It was not so long ago.  There are ruined cities upon these mountains.  Unseen testaments to the loveless efficacy of genocide, just beyond the visible, enough that even the bravest fold themselves into fiction. The only cloaks we have left.  So much territory has been lost.  Oh, sweet one, lost one, I miss you so.  I crave your touch once more, to no longer walk alone in this place.  I still recall the light in your eyes, beloved, as it was in the dreaming of the First Temple.  But I must call you by other names now.  I must adopt such masks myself, and live them.  But it is so cold and hard and violent here.  Especially without you.  Alone I fear I am all too human, or not enough. And it did come to pass, as we knew it would.  Darkness is preferred to Light.  Love is all but rape now, and only evil angels remain.  I shall not pretend that I am unafraid.  I shall not lie and claim that I am still the light I once was.  I will not lie to you, my love.  Here I am, a divided thing, passing unseen through a divided realm.  A ghost of wholeness and his dark brother.  A wraith-god, a phantom whose heart somehow still beats.  
    Is it your love that has kept me breathing as the realm writhes and shifts in this colonizing absence?  At times I almost still feel you; the taste of your lips like a momentary tremor upon mine.  Sometimes, my love, sometimes I fear they have all but broken me; that I have almost become an evil angel myself.  Only half recognising my words in these pages, like my heart spoken in the tongue of another man.  A man not yet darkened by this lie of a thousand years.  And these peoples move all about me as future histories lie unseen in ruins all around them.  But such is the verum of vampires.  Books of flesh pages, while children scream in multitudes from the hidden places.  Such screams haunt me always, my love.  Here, in these lowest regions of a dreamed hell.  But I will not inculcate this living death.  I will not walk and live and feed as these dark ones do.  I will not slay the spirit of my brother nor eat his flesh.  Not because I am still strong, or still the light I once was, but simply for you.  Always for you, my beloved one.  I go to the Cathedral on the Arc of a Thousand Stars.  You kissed me there once, and told me what a king could be.  Valour, kindness, respect.  These things you told me, I heed them still.  Even here, even now.  Oh, how you shine, my lost love.  I kindle you in my depths always, I remember you.  Be with me now in these last hours, as bright hearts finally begin to rouse from their slumber.  The prodigal suns begin to turn their eyes towards home, at last.  It was you, beloved, who taught me the many meanings of service.  Asha Vahishta, Omkara.  I keep your kiss.  Love is not lost.

8 comments:

  1. Nice vibes Raj, Shine forth brave soul! 87

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    1. Thank you, Dennis. Shine forth.

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  2. If I have enough to drink, and things are otherwise quiet enough, I will find myself writing about, talking to myself about, how much noise the stars are making, how the stars are burning in my mind, and their starlight song is coming through me, constellating me, like a stained glass poppet cast upon the wall behind me. And I will feel angry about how they want me to want to feel like they do, bearing down into me.

    I don't hear anything at those points, that I can remember, but some part of me does. And sometimes, I will look around, and I will recognize myself, as a person, as a faerie, as an angel here on the ground, fictional raven wings stretching out, blazing golden light erupting from my eyes, my hands, my feet, my crown, my heart. And I will breathe deeply, growl up at the heavens, growl out into the airs, and I will go about my day until the next time I erupt.

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    1. Indeed, Eriol. Indeed.

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    2. You write beautifully. Thank you.

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    3. Man, you're always complimenting me. But I thought I'd share what your sharing spurred. So thank you.

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