billowing silk
"there's a gentle sigh which descends like billowing silk upon the soul that accepts its coming death. it's a gentle pocket of air in the turbulence of everyday life. the silk of this feeling flutters - no "flutters" is too active a word - the silk settles around you as if it has been drifting towards the earth forever and has finally found its target. the flag of defeat has been mercifully dropped and, in this action, the loss is not so bad. defeat itself is defeated by the embrace of defeat, and death is swallowed up in victory.
the hiss of the snake fades away and death touches lovingly, possessively: it's a master who pets the head of a dog, or a parent who consoles a crying child. the hours begin to roll and the days scarcely separate themselves from the nights. darkness swells like a beautiful, hushed tsunami, and the body craves calming lullabies and final psalms."
The Gargoyle
Andrew Davidson
page 52
the hiss of the snake fades away and death touches lovingly, possessively: it's a master who pets the head of a dog, or a parent who consoles a crying child. the hours begin to roll and the days scarcely separate themselves from the nights. darkness swells like a beautiful, hushed tsunami, and the body craves calming lullabies and final psalms."
The Gargoyle
Andrew Davidson
page 52