And I ask myself, did I fall from grace?
And I look around me
and I realize
There is none to be had here.
I must leave this behind
fight through to reach the fires
and once the cleansing flames caress me
hold me warm again in their embrace
Then I shall rise
For one can not fall unless one has risen
and I
I still choke on the ashes
of the fires that consumed those
who sought to use me as the fuel
for their fires of ascension.
for I stand in the flames of others
and know
that I shall not be fed upon
will not be burned
because
I start the fire
Power
Power is an illusion that the weak accept for themselves to avoid the agony of change.
Weakness is an illusion the powerful concoct to give the weak an excuse not to act.
Agony is the crucible of the mind and the body that comes with the exercise of change
Power is the core of every free soul who would accept the agony as an everyday fact
Responsibility is both solo and societal to build foundations upon which to thrive
Until the weakest are brought up by the strength of us all then none of us are really alive
Heresy in Death
The afterlife is a huge plane, not flat.
There are plateaus
The plateaus are as large as needed; each is a realm protected by the gods of the past and of the now.
Power is that of will, boosted by the faith of the followers
The vast valleys between the plateaus are filled with the faithless dead
, the faithless dead die again and again, lacking the divine protection of the realms of the plateaus
And there is hunger
that can cause one to consume the bodies of the dead souls. This can nourish as well as corrupt. The act of nourishing happens when healing your fellow dead. Corruption from consuming.
Your power can be increased through the faith of your followers. But they cannot be told this in the beginning. Only voluntary faith creates the connection between the faithful and the bright one.
Bright one must protect.
can start raising a plateau.
The dark ones feed and warp those they consume into twisted parodies of the souls they were in life.
Where The Heart Is
They say home is where the heart is
and with a heart full of hate
It won’t let you expatriate to a higher state
Some Sun, Someone
The sun went down, and the reflection died with the new moon
I don’t know the answers, but they’re going to be inflicted on us soon
Breath like fire and blood is ice. Skin has its own mind.
Crawling out of the throat is the truth, letting sanity unwind.
If we had it to do over again, I would turn reality to ashes.
Instead, we stare into the horrors as the second hand passes
What flesh is this that parts so easily?
Embrace the blade and open to the breeze
The river runs warm
The source begins to freeze
The moon rose again and blankets the earth in reflected grace,
She turned her face away, letting pinpoints watch in her place.
Cataclysmic mother once torn to birth the barren daughter.
cries out in agony for the scars that evolution has brought her.
Penetrated and burned for the blood of those who died before
She hopes their suffering will end, and she can cry no more.
What flesh is this that parts so easily?
Embrace the blade and open to the breeze
The river runs warm
The source begins to freeze
We crave to claim and walk again on another mother in the sky
Who’s only child mishapen can barely stand to fly
Captured over to witness metal insects crawl her skin
The cycle of her sister will one day start again
But these ashes will drift forever on the cosmic ice
Considered the path but did not consider twice
What flesh is this that parts so easily?
Embrace the blade and open to the breeze
The river runs warm
The source begins to freeze
