The End Of Glory ecetera et al...
Prelapsarian and Pitied
Speed is the great narrator; time and space have only the bent of light, the soft curvature of an acoustic echo, but they were once subject to Speed, only recently intertwined, one might claim, not as they once were, only eidolons divined in the naked dreams of Speed. At high pace, in the space of time, shortened, lengthened and indeterminable, Speed, the elusive constant, an apparition like wild wind in winter, decides the ancient cases, the forms, lonely and forlorn are all bowed to Speed. At the base, at the beginning, if one were to assume that Speed has a beginning, there one would find Fire. Fire is the singular catalyst, the shadow of the Almighty cast into the abyssal splendor of deep, dark space. Fire, at the beginning, the birth or death of Speed, was the originator thereof. With that explosive power, that uncontrollable upwelling of heat and passion (of course, passion before it was encapsulated within the mortal heart was pure and unadulterated, if you wish, pure Fire) it borne of its holy seed Speed. And so it was Speed came to be known as the great narrator, the nonpareil Baron of the empty heartlands and the empty heart; thrust into the trackless deserts and the deserted soul.
The first recollection of man, born out of the lack of tergiversation, was indeed honest and pure and man remembered Speed. Man knew not of time, but he knew of Speed, of anthropomorphic motion as evidenced in the bestial intimations at his feet. Man had not an understanding of space, knowing instead the open expanse of sky, the breadth of unfettered trees and the glowing brook that meandered like the path of a preoccupied angel. But Speed, man knew of Speed. Out of the endless day the man knew sleep and borne out of his wound with Speed was companion. Formed without haste, rather with Speed, companion became the organic actualization between those man had named and the inner vastness of heart. And time, still a secondary, an indefinable constant, held steady, held firm and in doing so became unobservable as the man and his companion wandered between the named. The first breath of inkling; a wound to time, the perspicacious mumblings of a calculating killer, a betrayer, was therefore a Judas born in the pre-antediluvian period.
Man, conscious of Speed, took precious note to the development, to the awakening sense of movement based in motion, in moment and in matter. But here, where time was fixed, Speed was the only bastion of the imperceptible and so man chased what he could nevaR catch. Speed eluded him, between the gracious palm fronds, the wafting scent of their inviting shade, tempting his first sense, inflaming his passionate hunger, the Fire, the precursor to Speed, the mother/father/progenitor struggling to allay the desire for its firstborn and first buried. But man is a relentless beast, a figure constructed not of furred cells and foaming mouth, but of keen intellect, that of vision, of desperation. The carnality of primal sense further diminished with Speed, relegated to the far corners of active and inactive thought; Speed moved the process of discovery with Speed to invariably create the effect and the concept of Speed within a mind Speeding toward utter self-deprecation clothed in the impenetrable guise of self realization. The illusion of space and time therefore combined to solidify the narrator Speed, because Speed in itself was the only act visible and reliable. Thus the end of glory bore itself with Speed upon the twisted lines of a sinuous rebellion.
Clothed in scale and armor, ambivalent in outward opinion, but graceful, dare one say, elegant; the last and first of the Star-children was marked. The echoes of his nova, his pulsating descent, his shattering collapse, all carried outside of time and space by Speed. Thus the end of glory arrived, borne on the wings of Speed, those wide, encompassing wings, gilded and stretched from one side of the feeble world to the other. Upon the newly born nebulas, the sun's cosmic rays, and the soft dust of rough-housing comets and rock came the end. The aqueous atmosphere, rent and entered as if by the sharpest stone, tearing a gap barely wide enough for a hair to slide through fell Speed, the newly cast emissary of terror. Aching, agonizing terror, birthed itself on the shores of the glittering stream, burrowed itself in the interest of self-preservation and spite among the roots of the peerless dendrologic places. With shifting form, pleasing and malleable the corpse of the Star-child moved with ease and, always with Speed.
And so it came to be that the amalgamating being brought the companion with Speed into the realm of time and space. Plural tongued and uncouth, wild whispers on one half and vile proclamations upon the other, the fallen Star-child brought about the merciless waves that only time matched within space can create. The end of glory being near, the taste, a sickly sweetness, shared between the man and his companion brought the beast a renewed life. All illusion dissipated into the folds of green leaves. With Speed, matchless Speed indeed, they found shelter, found refuge beneath those first leafy fronds, choosing to burrow beneath them, to hide their prey in the soft fronds of the fibered scenes. They, with Speed, now conceptualizing the meaning of time and space found instead the utter profanity, the aching obscenity of shame and an ill repute. And thus, filling the space between the time and the time that now defined Speed, came the Unquantifiable, the Unqualifiable, the Untamable and the Intangible. With forethought, conceived before man, before his companion, before the first and last of the Star-children; that which filled the expanse of time, of space and was in fact the Antecessor, the fuel of Fire, begetting Speed, now and always encompassing the three components of the moral/physical/spiritual existence, was without fail fully coeval. In the quiet, between the echoless branches, wisdom and grace, the unequivocal whisper of mercy, like caring hands removed those Prelapsarian children.
Time. Space. Speed. The great conundrum of the moral/physical/spiritual being is therefore rendered with finality and made potent. Chained together, the triumvirate of inevitability, of infiniteness, and of the impetuosity of existence-all else became as slaves, worn, brow-beaten slaves. The end of glory, the second trinity of the inoperable and incontrovertible Law therefore set those previously Prelapsarian, as now to be pitied.
dear Kafka, you burrow beneath me
dear Borges, you circle in the ruins around me...
Herr Luci
(december still my old enemy)
Imogen Heap/Plauge Songs "Glittering Clouds (Locusts)"
I'm not always like this
It's something, I become
A terrible weakness
In my nature, in my blood
Save me, oh save me, save me from myself
Before I hurt somebody else again
Speed is the great narrator; time and space have only the bent of light, the soft curvature of an acoustic echo, but they were once subject to Speed, only recently intertwined, one might claim, not as they once were, only eidolons divined in the naked dreams of Speed. At high pace, in the space of time, shortened, lengthened and indeterminable, Speed, the elusive constant, an apparition like wild wind in winter, decides the ancient cases, the forms, lonely and forlorn are all bowed to Speed. At the base, at the beginning, if one were to assume that Speed has a beginning, there one would find Fire. Fire is the singular catalyst, the shadow of the Almighty cast into the abyssal splendor of deep, dark space. Fire, at the beginning, the birth or death of Speed, was the originator thereof. With that explosive power, that uncontrollable upwelling of heat and passion (of course, passion before it was encapsulated within the mortal heart was pure and unadulterated, if you wish, pure Fire) it borne of its holy seed Speed. And so it was Speed came to be known as the great narrator, the nonpareil Baron of the empty heartlands and the empty heart; thrust into the trackless deserts and the deserted soul.
The first recollection of man, born out of the lack of tergiversation, was indeed honest and pure and man remembered Speed. Man knew not of time, but he knew of Speed, of anthropomorphic motion as evidenced in the bestial intimations at his feet. Man had not an understanding of space, knowing instead the open expanse of sky, the breadth of unfettered trees and the glowing brook that meandered like the path of a preoccupied angel. But Speed, man knew of Speed. Out of the endless day the man knew sleep and borne out of his wound with Speed was companion. Formed without haste, rather with Speed, companion became the organic actualization between those man had named and the inner vastness of heart. And time, still a secondary, an indefinable constant, held steady, held firm and in doing so became unobservable as the man and his companion wandered between the named. The first breath of inkling; a wound to time, the perspicacious mumblings of a calculating killer, a betrayer, was therefore a Judas born in the pre-antediluvian period.
Man, conscious of Speed, took precious note to the development, to the awakening sense of movement based in motion, in moment and in matter. But here, where time was fixed, Speed was the only bastion of the imperceptible and so man chased what he could nevaR catch. Speed eluded him, between the gracious palm fronds, the wafting scent of their inviting shade, tempting his first sense, inflaming his passionate hunger, the Fire, the precursor to Speed, the mother/father/progenitor struggling to allay the desire for its firstborn and first buried. But man is a relentless beast, a figure constructed not of furred cells and foaming mouth, but of keen intellect, that of vision, of desperation. The carnality of primal sense further diminished with Speed, relegated to the far corners of active and inactive thought; Speed moved the process of discovery with Speed to invariably create the effect and the concept of Speed within a mind Speeding toward utter self-deprecation clothed in the impenetrable guise of self realization. The illusion of space and time therefore combined to solidify the narrator Speed, because Speed in itself was the only act visible and reliable. Thus the end of glory bore itself with Speed upon the twisted lines of a sinuous rebellion.
Clothed in scale and armor, ambivalent in outward opinion, but graceful, dare one say, elegant; the last and first of the Star-children was marked. The echoes of his nova, his pulsating descent, his shattering collapse, all carried outside of time and space by Speed. Thus the end of glory arrived, borne on the wings of Speed, those wide, encompassing wings, gilded and stretched from one side of the feeble world to the other. Upon the newly born nebulas, the sun's cosmic rays, and the soft dust of rough-housing comets and rock came the end. The aqueous atmosphere, rent and entered as if by the sharpest stone, tearing a gap barely wide enough for a hair to slide through fell Speed, the newly cast emissary of terror. Aching, agonizing terror, birthed itself on the shores of the glittering stream, burrowed itself in the interest of self-preservation and spite among the roots of the peerless dendrologic places. With shifting form, pleasing and malleable the corpse of the Star-child moved with ease and, always with Speed.
And so it came to be that the amalgamating being brought the companion with Speed into the realm of time and space. Plural tongued and uncouth, wild whispers on one half and vile proclamations upon the other, the fallen Star-child brought about the merciless waves that only time matched within space can create. The end of glory being near, the taste, a sickly sweetness, shared between the man and his companion brought the beast a renewed life. All illusion dissipated into the folds of green leaves. With Speed, matchless Speed indeed, they found shelter, found refuge beneath those first leafy fronds, choosing to burrow beneath them, to hide their prey in the soft fronds of the fibered scenes. They, with Speed, now conceptualizing the meaning of time and space found instead the utter profanity, the aching obscenity of shame and an ill repute. And thus, filling the space between the time and the time that now defined Speed, came the Unquantifiable, the Unqualifiable, the Untamable and the Intangible. With forethought, conceived before man, before his companion, before the first and last of the Star-children; that which filled the expanse of time, of space and was in fact the Antecessor, the fuel of Fire, begetting Speed, now and always encompassing the three components of the moral/physical/spiritual existence, was without fail fully coeval. In the quiet, between the echoless branches, wisdom and grace, the unequivocal whisper of mercy, like caring hands removed those Prelapsarian children.
Time. Space. Speed. The great conundrum of the moral/physical/spiritual being is therefore rendered with finality and made potent. Chained together, the triumvirate of inevitability, of infiniteness, and of the impetuosity of existence-all else became as slaves, worn, brow-beaten slaves. The end of glory, the second trinity of the inoperable and incontrovertible Law therefore set those previously Prelapsarian, as now to be pitied.
dear Kafka, you burrow beneath me
dear Borges, you circle in the ruins around me...
Herr Luci
(december still my old enemy)
Imogen Heap/Plauge Songs "Glittering Clouds (Locusts)"
I'm not always like this
It's something, I become
A terrible weakness
In my nature, in my blood
Save me, oh save me, save me from myself
Before I hurt somebody else again