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Behind dream-swept eyes fragments of reality dissolve, making visible traces out of cold remnants in alien skies.
The path, the fall, the arch of descent becomes lucid, embellished by the heroic aspirations of human hope.
Tearing at the fabric of understanding, the exploration pries hard science into the womb of the unknown, blind to the subtlety of those elements of time and space for which no mathematical formula exists. Purpose has no quantifiable value, but without significance, the actions of sentient beings become lost to anarchy and entropy...Chaos.
For a moment, it is conceivable that creation can not be accounted for outside of our perceptions, and truth relies heavily on the limitations of the discussion, or the tool to which convention has agreed to bestow validity. However the game is played, the end does not name a winner...but these thoughts are swept away in the excitement of discovery.
The ship crawled closer to the mouth of the rift, and seemed to hesitate...hours, days, possibly years...all within a fraction of an atomic spin, before descending the path and disappearing from the tethered comfort of communication...into the unknown, into the self, into the Ether. The chemicals of thought are squashed, made denser and more compact; a dead sun alive in its collapse. And yet thought, spirit, essence, and energy continue to flow. The soul, cold in its thirst for the grail, peers upwards to see the fiery descent of the Wishfire shredding the sky with blackened oil and smoke...a sign. Below the fireworks within the heavens the Aegeans pour into the inlet spears begging to pierce the sky and spill the blood of Trojan valor, of Trojan innocence, of Trojan mercy. Ships strewn across the beach number greater than the stars to mortal eyes...
Said the sphinx to the Angel: For what will a man knowingly surrender his love?
And the Angel replied: The selfish man will run when there is no gain to be had. The brutish man will turn if there is no favor to be won. The hungry man will flee if there is no possibility of food. But the man driven by love will not yield so long as there is hope.
The heart is a fortress, It stretches defiantly across the horizon. An oath given to Love, sworn in earnest...is a blessing, a protection, an essence so powerful it might possess the last living thought of its defenders. Those brave enough to stand between their destroyers and the source of their inspiration are driven by something as deep as time. They will not yield until the siege is abandoned...or until all hearts have fallen silent in her defense...
Some men find their glory in victory but others find their victory in defeat. Life will show the way...but our path is laid by the brave.
The path, the fall, the arch of descent becomes lucid, embellished by the heroic aspirations of human hope.
Tearing at the fabric of understanding, the exploration pries hard science into the womb of the unknown, blind to the subtlety of those elements of time and space for which no mathematical formula exists. Purpose has no quantifiable value, but without significance, the actions of sentient beings become lost to anarchy and entropy...Chaos.
For a moment, it is conceivable that creation can not be accounted for outside of our perceptions, and truth relies heavily on the limitations of the discussion, or the tool to which convention has agreed to bestow validity. However the game is played, the end does not name a winner...but these thoughts are swept away in the excitement of discovery.
The ship crawled closer to the mouth of the rift, and seemed to hesitate...hours, days, possibly years...all within a fraction of an atomic spin, before descending the path and disappearing from the tethered comfort of communication...into the unknown, into the self, into the Ether. The chemicals of thought are squashed, made denser and more compact; a dead sun alive in its collapse. And yet thought, spirit, essence, and energy continue to flow. The soul, cold in its thirst for the grail, peers upwards to see the fiery descent of the Wishfire shredding the sky with blackened oil and smoke...a sign. Below the fireworks within the heavens the Aegeans pour into the inlet spears begging to pierce the sky and spill the blood of Trojan valor, of Trojan innocence, of Trojan mercy. Ships strewn across the beach number greater than the stars to mortal eyes...
Said the sphinx to the Angel: For what will a man knowingly surrender his love?
And the Angel replied: The selfish man will run when there is no gain to be had. The brutish man will turn if there is no favor to be won. The hungry man will flee if there is no possibility of food. But the man driven by love will not yield so long as there is hope.
The heart is a fortress, It stretches defiantly across the horizon. An oath given to Love, sworn in earnest...is a blessing, a protection, an essence so powerful it might possess the last living thought of its defenders. Those brave enough to stand between their destroyers and the source of their inspiration are driven by something as deep as time. They will not yield until the siege is abandoned...or until all hearts have fallen silent in her defense...
Some men find their glory in victory but others find their victory in defeat. Life will show the way...but our path is laid by the brave.