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Solitude 

With a sudden thump,

Heavy with finality,

The formless hand of time tosses another trowelful of soft,

Loamy earth atop a small box

Whose contents are forevermore hidden

To the eyes of consciousness. 

The gentle breath of forgetfulness stirs the soft wisps of moist steam

That curl in faint tendrils from the gash

In the rich,

Brown,

Soil. 

Rain falls. 

Now gentle,

Now torrential,

And the ground forgets the scar

Beneath the choking weeds of regret.  

In a whisper of time,

All is forgotten to dust

And loss. 


Mute Gloom – unfinished

Like a pervasive fog,

a bleak, white chill seeps into me,

into my bones and up into the small chamber of light

where meditators play,

damping the tiny flame

that sometimes there dances.

Memories stir,

quickly tamped down into a gnawing ache –

I wish not to remember,

yet I know not to forget –

some lessons are harder than others.

 


Flight exerpt

Scott drew in a long, slow breath, drinking in the icy air like a thin, black dew. His nose was numb from the cold. He closed his eyes against the looming darkness, and let his mind run loose over his calculations. Scott tossed and spun figures in his mind, creating, destroying, and recreating landscapes of possible speeds and trajectories for his small ship. In this local valley of spacetime, days out from the Arturu Gate, only a halo of cool starlight reached the ship from the pinpoints spread across the static blanket of strange, dark energy. The Edge coasted through a smooth river of darkness nearly as deep outside its hull as inside.


Smoke

It is cold as I sit in the shade,
Tasting the soreness of the day.
The sun cannot see me
Here in the shadow.
I sink into myself to hide.

I spit.
The remnant of the drink.
Black coffee and bitters,
Rich, leather flavors.
I am rich beyond my own means.

Do not approach me here,
A few degrees short of warmth.
I will devour your mind
And consume the hell that you bring.
In this place I am alone.


Friend

I look to you,
My friend,
The emptiness bedside me.
There is no one there,
Indeed,
Myth.
I am alone,
As life and I worked together
To shut those doors,
To isolate this pain
And wonder
And joy
From interlopers outside.
I shall live and die alone,
For that is how life was ordained-
Man in the image,
In the image of a lonely god.
Yes,
There is sadness.
In isolation there is always sadness and regret.
We are a social creature
And solitude begets pain.
I do not fear the pain,
But neither am i the fiend who might embrace that kiss.

Tonight I do wish for a friend.
That is something I no longer remember,
Something whose memory shall only grow fainter.

Tonight I am alone.


Is it as simple as that –
A few hours of who I am
For a morsel of bread?
Is there any other way
Without leaving this little city of humanity?

Alas, l for I am torn with revery,
Visions of greatness,
Art and poetry,
Fruits of the vine of sorrow.
Are there no other outlets for wisdom?

The sun is cooling,
Though August is not yet full.
I feel the change in the air
When dreams precipitate to craft
Where is the harvest of the year?


Debt

Once again I touch the glass,
My lips and against the chill of the glass –
Razor’s edge
Of unforgiving crystal.

Golden nectar,
Nourished by caring arms
And shining eyes –
This joy is borrowed.

I cannot say why I return over and over
Why I am drawn,
Lodestone to pole
To this dissociation with life.

Where does this path point?
Where do these feet pull
This slow,
Reluctant mind?

Escape had been so easy,
Upon a time
I knew paths to release
Before these shackles of Duty.

This pull is more than desire,
It is compulsory,
A need to flee,
To not be.

I am not searching for nothing,
I do not yearn for nonexistence,
I only wish to escape
The trap of this reality.

This reality,
Wherein a moment of peace
Is bought at the price
Of a day of pain.

This reality
Where I watch Being
Dissolve continually
into unbeing.

So.
So I make the trade.
I buy escape
For the price of depression.

Pain deferred,
Deferred with interest.
Why is there always such cost
For joy?

Another sip.
One last sip
Takes me from reality
To escape.
I sign the debt.


Arrogance

It is quite a thing for man
To dethrone the gods
And install upon the altar
The infallible word of Science,
Merciless god of whose character
We know nothing.

It is quite another thing
Altogether,
For man to climb that altar,
And there sit enthroned
In glory from the light
Of his own
Arrogance.


Arrogance

It is quite a thing for man
To dethrone the gods
And install upon the altar
The infallible word of Science,
Merciless god of wise character
We know nothing.

It is quite another thing
Altogether,
For man to climb that altar,
And there sit enthroned
In glory from the light
Of his own
Arrogance.


Flow

Humanity can not subvert the world,
Neither through arrogance
Of atheist or zealot,
Nor through faulted eye of science
Peering out of intent most pure.
No,
Man cannot decide a thing is pure or foul,
Cannot dictate good or evil.

Humanity is not outside the flow,
But rather is swept through reality
Along the course of Truth.
The name for Devil or God
Is not born of man,
But only recognized,
In light of the flow of truth.


Mick On Everything

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