Two Men

“Why?”

He poured another glass. It was only water. Somehow it seemed fair that both had an equal glass of which. Both times they drank and felt the ice touch their lips. With each shock of cold came a lipid flame that overcame their senses. The sun would shine, but not on them. It seemed like time stood still. As though the light suddenly bent through shadow and collapsed in an ethereal chamber that halt the glow of the stars between them. As soon as one spoke, the single noise would give shade to the forbidden. No more shall light cast these thoughts to burn. With every sip came a new thought. As though the water had something different in it. Nor diseased. Nor poison. Nor drug. Nor timid.

But more questions asked are less answers raised. For so bitter are the stares; a bitter tournament awaits. These men were hollow. They stared out through the light that permeated through window and concrete. This city they knew suddenly became the very silhouette of their unbecoming nature. Nor birds would fly without seeing them. In each gasp of air they breathed came new fulfillment sought. For both they and other men know their complex ways. To create is thus to destroy.

The very poison shall be this water: the one substance they drink with no taste, but to taste their inner selves. Though sweeter lips shall ripen its taste.

And the moon shall gush through solar wind and cast itself in Earth’s shadow. And he shall rise and cast himself to corner swept in little light he gazed. Their thoughts in lieu of past and hope fallen; no more is taught ere less is fought. In war and peace their actions known. In one side is war, another for peace. Another for ally; theirs the enemy of theirs.

Though suited both and booted, but barbarians would dress better. So fewer masks are crafted is less than they. And cards would play with joker raised. With each reverse their mask is shadow; nor Anonymous can credit their deceit with ill-got thought. Nor men of past shall be boys of future. Their offspring the sight of woe. Their posterity the appeal of ignorance. And their ancestors the apparel of loss.

Named

I gain an aspect of humanity and drop it into the ocean. Once the seas are formed, then the land will appear. Once the land appears, so shall the truth begin. Whence known it shall find its place in the heart of history; who knew that breath that once took pace. At last they walk and then knew not their fate. At once they fought and breathed not good faith. I shall crush them in the tears of mine disgraced that conjure wild and storm them through. My word as good as fauna; my hand little but soft too gained. For’t were banished souls and cry the signs of light deepen the songs of woe – a distant cry heard in the softest blue as marble shine, this merry dark, this rock of beast in the widest black. Read More

Sphere of Happiness

Indeed, Madame; but first I shall inform you what I mean by love. To think of it is to think of our lives as but a space of darkness; no star to guide us, nor planet to gaze at from above; nor the suns we equal to our hearts as one; for it is none but a thick darkness that covers all through eternity and our lives. The only light we endure is within a sphere which we enjoy as that it is the source of happiness ours. Thine, ’tis a beautiful sphere that I kiss for a pearl in the darkness that reflects an aura of beating heart that illuminates mine to an endless desire to tell thee how much I love you. Read More

A man’s life

He enjoyed the ignorance once known, and to have known nothing gave him the happiness to be ignorant more. Make me do; effect me so. For at youngest continues to graze the seeds of his youth under a soil of fertility; water of life; and sun for the lasting heat and light that drives his heart in momentum as his ire be gazed. Sooner grasps the first tools to prove his worth, and his father now in rest continues on the road alone with friends once he ganged now leaving for separate ways away. Realising that only solitude to help him work, and ought to be but never ought for a sanctum praised than the home he dreams with the warmth to conceal his thoughts better than the head of the wildest man. Read More