Till We Have Faces

The leaves, they turn and frolic in their innocence

We touch them, expecting the coldness of their earthen squander.

We have lost to mankind.

Perched on the tree, stoops a vulture

We find comfort in ourselves, we don't look back

Ponder yourself, as you muster your courage.

Seek for yourself your truth.

Unmask your despair, face your iniquities, your demons

Take heart, and know that you are loved.

Among all the creatures, you are not alone.

We have lost to mankind.

The grass is damp under your feet from its morning bliss.

We touch them, hoping they grant us the audacity to persevere

We have not yet lost to mankind.

Poised in front of us is a lion

We gaze at its infernal gaze, paralyzed by fear.

Revitalize your mind, steady your heart, and take heed.

Fight your battles wisely, and leave nothing unturned.

Remove from your complexion all that hinders.

Feel the wind graze your heart, you are loved.

You, who are valued above all the animals.

Pray that you do not lose to mankind.

Pray that you will venture forth,

Until we live again,

Until we win again,

and most importantly, until we have faces.

|-Amending Fate-|

Original image courtesy of science.psu.edu

I remember a story about a star. I remember the color of the magenta star as it pulsated and lit up the night sky, the eminence of the star was known to every celestial body around it, from the constellations to the dust clouds and the comets in neighboring galaxies. I remember that this star was the envy of the night sky and that every galaxy wanted this star. Its beauty was unmatched throughout the heavens. The color of its core was the brightest of lights.

I remember that this star was noticeable from anywhere on Earth. Everyone could look up and romanticize its incomparable beauty. This star gave life, this star gave warmth.

As I recall, the star shone for many a-time, and the trace of its beauty reverberated from leagues away from its source. Unmatched beauty. Undisputed glory. Unfading brilliance. Untarnished fame from sky to sky.

This star shone for a long time, and lived its life in the icy cold unknown. In its later years, the star was no longer envied. Its warmth was all but comforting, and the neighboring galaxies outshone its brilliance.

The star, just before its evanescence from the night sky took its last remorseful gaze on its galaxy. Who would remember this star? Growing ever colder, and more alone now than ever, the star imploded – creating a massive hole in the night sky.

Ouroboros:.:

I beseech you, Mihr,

Why do you condemn me?

Has fate not been cruel to you?

Why then should you avast?

Hold your tongue, that you may be my folly.

Pray Mihr, that our paths do not cross.

Pray that Gavreel does not bestow his nature on us;

Under your breath, pray you also that his light cast not a shadow on the ground you step

His presence should not bathe in your company

Pray, young Mihr, that you will be cast from his divinity.

Plead with the stars under which you were conceived,

For all of the pleasures of the world,

Permit this one pass you.

Drink not of its cup; endow it to another.

Lost sheep never search their herder.

The moon never needed the waves.

In its vastness, the ocean never asked for its depth.

In its splendor, life never asked for sorrow.

Raise your glasses!

Drink your pain away and give your sorrow a name

Life is well, do you feel it?

Under it all, you find happiness in yourself.

Inamorata

I was on my way home back from the market. I stopped at a few places along the way to see what was on sale, but i carried on. I talked to a few people along the way, but i carried on. I got back home, and she was waiting for me. We hugged and kissed and we told each other how much we loved each other. She left the light on for me. She is so lovely. Weeks passed, and i stopped talking to people at the market. I always carried on. One day, she didn't leave the light on for me. We still hugged, kissed, and made love, but she kept the lights off. She must be expecting someone else.

-=inpart.im

i had a dream not too long ago about waking up to a girl staring at me. she was very intent on my waking up, and after doing so, she tells me that i have to choose. in one hand, she has a grilled fish (right hand), and in her left hand she has a handful of peas.

find your faith, seek your destiny

unearth your mind and fulfill your destiny

give heed to your thoughts, and make them yours

end it not, and make it naught.

this woman seeks my heart

her trifle is my head

im partial to the latter,

but will this feeling ever end?

my god, is this your opt'?

garnished with your scent of fervor

adorn this life and fail your own

until you opt once more

fate will consume your endeavors

your choice is not given, but taken.

inquire your heart, and gain riches.

your destiny awaits

Still the woman stares

her gaze belonging to my soul

my fate is solid, my faith posed

my heart is aloft and troubled

'i will opt none'.

for none is mine-

and mine is for mine.

mine alone can find solitude.

I chose none. And I woke up frightened.

.remorseful ambiguity.

i was once a book. a book with pages of pages, and yet pages none. fill my pages, i tried. allow the ink to spread down the page from the tip of the pen, from the stroke of it all to form lines. contort your lines to make shapes. Nay, that these shapes dare form letters, and from them words. ink not my mind, asunder my attempt at writing. less you should find that neither pen nor the book would express my inept emotions. but neither am i the book nor the pen. i find comfort that i am not the book. everyone was a book, but books were meant to be read. what of the ink? if the ink were the book, would it escape the world it was written to? had it a say, would it deny its truth? pray that it would not escape the truth of the Writer.

let us assume that we are all Writers. what is our truth? what medium carries our soul and rings true to the hearts of other Writers? had i once been told that my soul could not transcend my imagination, you would come to find me a Writer no more. The oppressed have a terrible knack to horde their soul. indulge me for my truth, young Writer. u have neither friend nor foe but the ink to which you have been given. will you find for yourself to be a book? after all, we all were once books. books with pages of pages, and yet pages none.

.even the most dismayed.

Lay down your armor, brave soldier.
The battle is won, your wounds are healed.

This quarrel was not yours, but you fought.
Your comrades have died, but you tread still.
Look, alas, there is hope.
Nay, that you have given so much.

Find heart and treasure your loss.
Stay 'till turmoil allots your heart.
Find courage and endeavor your soul.
Leave when your heart is lost.

Find yet another comrade,
For his path was quelled by dismay and ignited for recklessness.
Breathe in him words to qualm and stir him!
Say to him this, that he may also believe.

Brave and indignant soldier:
You have not given your soul,
You have not given your heart,
Yet your courage grows deep!

What is your claim?
That you have loved not,
Nor felt the warmth of grace's arms.
You, too, will be lost.

'In Regards to Your Sweet Taste' by Mark Palomino

In the hall of the eloquent gathering -

To these men who stood so tall and proud,
'Beware the man who bears wisdom!'
His voice, the wind; his gaze, the ocean.
...They were strong until we sat them down.

I am the culprit and you my constituent!
We kill for greed and thirst for pleasure.
Ha! Though they suffer, we do not mourn - we live to kill!
And when they die, they die in vain.

Their eyes so dull yet full of lust -
To gain a name...to be alive!
Their faces pale from the air so cold..
'Abhor your agony! Embrace your destruction!'

Isn't it beautiful?
How they grasp their life!
...and how we tease! slowly consuming it...
Oh yes, they will surely die. None will remain.

But the man still stood.
With cup in hand - his face gaunt and body frail.
His cry to God shrieked - through the calamity it rang!
"Oh my God, I'm dying to know!
As my heart is troubled and soul amiss -
Would you forgive my unbelief?"

Lonely soul, conceived but forgot;
Take this to heart, that you may noy whither:
'Not that you were them, for they were not!'
Whore hearts horde souls.

"God has forsaken us!" cried the child.
"The great 'I am' is to us the 'I am not',
He shook the earth to bring His Son,
But to us, His love, was never got."

Their breaths were heavy,
Their frail bodies cold.
One by one they fell into the arms of death -
And in our arms we kept them well.