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| february 2008 |
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| Airs | 12:07am tuesday, 26th february |
The soul at times will pine for impossible things. Like to turn back the years to some hour long subsided, which one forgot to make the most of on the first go. Could we truly have made things better, if given the chance? Would we all make the same mistakes, only the second time with better rationalizations? For I think I will listen to the music of times gone by, and long in my heart some unnameable desire, but I must listen to the logic that comes from my head. To desire well is a form of wisdom in itself, and I must train myself, I think, to want what can be. If not want only what should be. We are all human, and perhaps we cannot always strive toward the better alternative, but we are all born with the capacity to try. Even if we cannot reach the pinnacle, we may still breathe the air up there.
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| Arcana | 1:24am friday, 22nd february |
I have seen the images arcane, whose meanings come later. Curious prophecies, which say one thing, but hide their true consequences. I suppose it is as God spoke to His chosen in riddles: diagrams that cipher into something only viewable from an angle like hindsight, the puzzles only time can solve. These are emblems of the aesthetics of God, the secret books where all noble knowables dwell. The clandestine structure behind all information. If we are lucky enough, we serve as conduits of primal things, larger than us in one way or another, the fluid of destiny. A patch in the fabric of eternity: threads that weave infinity somehow in our finite hands form shape, and texture: and we know without knowing how or why that some unfathomable truth has flowed through us, into being from the void.
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| Salvation | 12:48am monday, 18th february |
People don’t understand what it means that Jesus Christ is our Lord and Savior. Quite specifically, that we could never be admitted into Heaven because we are sinful. We all fall short of the glory. We may only enter because Christ can enter, and because of His reward: that he may invite as many tagalongs as He sees fit. That is what is meant by His being the only way to salvation. Life and death rests solely upon His saying, “I know him,” or “I know him not”: this is the Judgement. And no work we do in this life can earn this path, for all who live besides Him sin in some way, some how. Though faith without works is hollow, it is by faith alone that we are saved. This is the miracle. We become friends of Christ, He told us, by doing as He instructed, and so will be granted the gift of the Resurrection. We only do this when we believe He is as He said He is, and are given the Holy Spirit, which He sent us after He came back from the dead, and ascended to His right place on high. This is the narrow way, and wide is the way to destruction. Believe, and be saved.
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| alone | 9:11am thursday, 14th february |
in the vastness of alone am i a pebble in the desert
the society of my mind has its infidels, bent on war
(i hover: a center, a dreamlike quiet stills my know)
a madness so perfectly designed, as to make one sane
i breathed in the vapors of time, as to make one wise
drifted from island to island in imaginary eternities
(i have seen out this window the dreaming pass by)
the vision pours from my eyes, formless and void
words spoken in solitude return to their source
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| sight | 12:50am sunday, 10th february |
day comes to the land of eternal night, effortlessly
beams flood all of all spaces, so that not one shadow may escape
i am blinded by the sight, a world born out of the nothing
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| Whirlwind | 4:29am wednesday, 6th february |
I am one step from a whirlwind, and I know that once I enter, there is no turning back. It is a step out of the machinery, into the wild turbulence of freedom. In the shadow of the dreaming, what has been imagined is to rush forth into the fray of life awakening, to know the air that holds the promise of a thousand hopes. Shall I be torn to shreds by the wild currents? Or shall I find some new balance, and find the courage to ride the elemental thrashing? One cannot tell from without what the experience is to be, within. And what matters if I am spit out from the thrill, beaten and broken? I must give my best face to what comes, step forward into the brave new future. And know that I have danced with fate, dreamt with the best.
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| stark | 12:44am saturday, 2nd february |
i have put a name upon my pain
as adam named the beasts, the first language
stark as winter wind is alone, is me
squeezing the words out of emptiness
a sadness of unspeakable power
and the wind steals away with what we forget
the folds of the rose that has died
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