Endings...
This LiveJournal ran from 19th December 2002 until 04 October 2007.
Alone, with human mirrors
We tarry upon the endless plateau one never sees from the road
The vista stretched out just ahead
Nothing in between
I observe those weary and entertained
Points of view bent inward
Panorama blind spot
Matrices of thought and time
Each as lost and desperate as their will
Accepting all substitute
Values curbed at the eye, not the matter
Yet they marvel at the blindness
Interests fed to satiety, not to appreciation
Yet they wonder why the sickness
Always the spiral, always the lie
Absent concept of the person inside
And of the beast
Two rend each other with words:
"When was the last time you made an apology,
where it was not made only because something you desired was at stake?
That is how perfect you are"
"You call yourself a traveller,
though I see no movement, no shelter"
Some aware, but all recursive
And then the apathy
No release, and one way forward
One way scorned
High up on the bridges
Our brotherhood was formed
From one shared glimpse of that vista
The infinite, clear and new
But you forgot, and forgot, and forgot
We died, and died, and died
One more tomorrow that never arrived
Still I smile at what I see
A painted face, with a broken mask
("Penumbra..." - originally posted 10th March 2005)
Alone, with human mirrors
We tarry upon the endless plateau one never sees from the road
The vista stretched out just ahead
Nothing in between
I observe those weary and entertained
Points of view bent inward
Panorama blind spot
Matrices of thought and time
Each as lost and desperate as their will
Accepting all substitute
Values curbed at the eye, not the matter
Yet they marvel at the blindness
Interests fed to satiety, not to appreciation
Yet they wonder why the sickness
Always the spiral, always the lie
Absent concept of the person inside
And of the beast
Two rend each other with words:
"When was the last time you made an apology,
where it was not made only because something you desired was at stake?
That is how perfect you are"
"You call yourself a traveller,
though I see no movement, no shelter"
Some aware, but all recursive
And then the apathy
No release, and one way forward
One way scorned
High up on the bridges
Our brotherhood was formed
From one shared glimpse of that vista
The infinite, clear and new
But you forgot, and forgot, and forgot
We died, and died, and died
One more tomorrow that never arrived
Still I smile at what I see
A painted face, with a broken mask
("Penumbra..." - originally posted 10th March 2005)