Friday, July 1, 2011

Après moi le déluge.

"A shout that tore hell's concave and beyond
frightened the reign of chaos and old Night."
When the voice echoes deep from the mountains, when from under that oak a fair maiden cries, the owl whispers an oath of redemption, not known whether for her cry or her manifestation of sins or this sleepless night. Oh Athena! Her arcane light, diminishing, transcends them both; for it wanders beyond the geometry of protection and the humming of the stars; right now when the Earth, Moon and Venus are lined up. Alluring pestilence. Despising the evil for a final ease. She is lovely beyond death.
Snared a drop of dew and gave it to the woods. Beneath the underworld, then she contemplated their throb. In that land of transmigrations and embodiments, she laid down and spoke in prayers to folly. After, she vanished to behold the skies up there. Quickly. It is lust at first sight. Amidst the soot and the rain.
It is a night on which even the maggot speaks in exultation, emerging from nature to manifest his supernatural existence! It aspires a radical transition. So far so incomplete. The romantic disillusionist bursting within his white gelatinous exposure. A bitter conflict for the zealous-dreaming barber. For his brain runs on uncomformity when she's walking towards the world. From dusk till dawn.
Abandoned, the oak's silhouette remained unseen in the twilight, but its grace craved to enter the realm of legend. To invade Etna! Once breathed on it, to recall the dead.

No comments:

Post a Comment