The End Of Reality...
Muse Ellendeh, Here I call Thee first a moment, as you drift already, in the ether carried by ghosts, in a web of allegories entangled invisable to mechanics, where reality does not see you, You who told me One day ago, as I reside Here in My temple, or was it a week a month or a year ago. Ah I am, Alas, I have no Memory, help me to put these writings to scrolls once more, i need to make these poems written, Rafwhnhenn, A worm, that trauma, eating in your head. Your beautiful mind, purest of Any Mind, and to you Rafhnnwhenn grew in caused this massive damages. And to me, a mind pulverized by Music and Beauty From Ayris Of Perception, and of the Touches of Yet Hundreds more Muse...
Muse That Was Born in A well, have me reitterate,
Yes! No,... Alas...
You carried by these phantom robes from spiders silk, Demons You do In mist and haze do glaring undergo their presence.
Mahogany Chariot in a cilinder, sinking deep into the Well in which you Were Born, Where you learnt to whisper, as you frail clasp to the rim of the as Silver untaunted pool of the Temple Of Etherith.
Now sigh, Now weary whisper once more to me. Let me As of Dogs have a scent for your words, that as Cats Bring themselves to me. And have my wit be as a Cat to love thy word.
From rafhnnwhenn needs a Goddess born. And rip it from your spirit.
~An Ode to Rafhwnewhenn~
"Beauty is not in the eye of the Beholder, as one Never perceives something Alone. And one never easily pardons a disagreement or delights in an agreement on Beauty."
~An Ode To Achrazhea~
"This is a Book by and for those who have been Touched by the Moon. Touched by Luna, yes even Caught in its Silvery Craze, silvery light haze... To have schewed normality in all these fears before to seen the Moon, to have held hopes in grave despair untill resolve from Luna ticking on the Door, and that Door was of perception, and Reality, To the Sciences a working, ever ticking clock, to the prophets, and ever infinate possibility of Meaning. All thanks to that first step towards infinity... That Luna, my madness. That Silver Light, That Silver Five,...
V an Empire..."
"It is of sung the first Forests of Mankind upon The Deserts of the Universe Would be Tulip Flowers on the First of the Silvers Her Deserts."
~An Ode To Wound Of ayris~
In You, your hand, the Key to the corridor Of Perception, Born From a Painting You were, and the Empress of Dreams Before reality, Dreams and Spirits, From WHich Reality was Born. She had One Guardess Stab you With A Spear as You Ran Behind Dream. Further into Reality and Already lost in the Corridors Beyon Dream, and Alas It Struck Your hand as you As Glories 12000 Mares Pulled A Shrine defended Yourself. And in That HAnd You Got the Stroke, a Touch of Dream and Reality, and You Uphold the Boundery Between Dream and Reality. And You With It Hold The WAll of Perception, for the mad not to Fall Through it. To wear off Insanity to the vastest Extents Much Like Vested Whims of Goddess.
In your Hand then Even, One splinter of the First Magnificent Spear Of the Spirit and Omnipotent Lance of Dream, THat you took and with which the Wall of Perception lights up before you at the Other End. Your only Light Sustenance of What is at the Other Side. Now Then as. As the light to you Licks the Corridors of the Other Side, and You shiver of haze and the Veneer of reality blisters before you.
So much do we seek perpetually where is the Corridor Of Mirrors, a Corridor in Which A Crack. An Impurity.
That Impurity to the Universe only Rational.
That to Us, only Miracle.
It Broke once and Broke Again.
And it need not. But we ever wait For that majestic Corridor to gently crackle and devestate the order of Reality. And then Perhaps. To be its End.
Where i In Luxury May bring with thee a sweetest moment to this Hell An Earth.
Where the Craftsman Of Cathedrals in a Desperate sleep ~ walk,... walk.
And Where Arts Empires Dwindle, as they seek the Daughters of EVen of Hethred? to Drink in order not to Change in Rats Cats or Serpents. And where Elves Dispersed Impossible to Rot and still not fight in these remotes from their Kin.
And Where A Drifter Is thrown in The Temple of Lhy. CAught in A Cage of Glass and Mirrors, allergic to White, Filled within that White With White For Greater Disaster.
And Where a rioteer and provocatant Finds the Muse Called Ciedhe. Who was Drowned in A barrel of Cherry Beer from below Hell and cast into the Earth.
And he Found Her, Where They Eat Jam As Jars of Ice with Jam Filled Fell.
From the Ground they Did Lick and From Eachothers Fingers They Licked the Sirops Of These Greatest Devestated Lands.