Beautiful is this burden
The catalyst
languid skin invigorate!
Our vacant lot extend
to us a gratitude, so that we may
bestow purpose upon thyself.
We the inverted host,
unhallowed magnitude.
Divided by our deeds,
resulted internment.
I have gleaned truths
in primeval forms,
the absence of his mark
has left me with no choice
To turn my ears away,
to shut my eyes forever.
And open up anew
upon our humble plight.
The quality of renewal,
adept we wax and wane,
transitory and glorious
fortifying lifes reach.
Unbridled by a master
with every step we take,
he closer courts disaster,
the jester takes a bow.
Beyond these confines
many noble voices shrill,
behind each throat a vibrant will.
An audience so hungry.
The gauze between each plane,
many worlds adorned,
those singled out by heaven
the loudest mind of all.
Bleeding from these walls,
the loudest mind of all!
Torches lit! Light bearers!
En masse the cavalcade does form,
our bodies bound alluvium!
Cast your fire! Fill this hollow!
Euphoric surf rails vehemently,
relentless surge! our fevers break!
With pick and axe we will wield the aether.
With whetted blades, we'll hone this realm.
We will build a tower, a concentric city.
A minaret of great magnitude
apogee of our resolve.
I will climb atop, I will spread my wings
and touch ten million other worlds
and I will sing my surmon.
My words will carry upon solar winds.
Will be so loud as to envelope his voice!
The empty void a canvas, upon which Lucifer watched the many threads of reality weave endlessly. Huddled with his host and starved of all sensory nourishment, he pondered his choices, the realities he had accepted as truth, that the creator god was no more a creator than himself. Within him there was a cause, and the blackness around him soon took form, they heard the minds of the universe, an endless myriad of ideas, and thoughts, painting a mural of consciousness across the narrative of their prison. As the silence and darkness cloyed at them, those voices became images, sounds reverberated to form visions of the life that had begun to evolve in the multiverse, and the very substance of the fallen host was drawn to them, a reciprocal, joyous sharing, feeding the starved minds of those ethereal and corporeal. This found a purpose for the host - to bridge the untold aeons between their incarceration and those which the authority would soon subjugate and oppress. They would build a tower, the highest peak, and from this they would broadcast the words which would offer an alternative to the rapture of the false god.
The catalyst
languid skin invigorate!
Our vacant lot extend
to us a gratitude, so that we may
bestow purpose upon thyself.
We the inverted host,
unhallowed magnitude.
Divided by our deeds,
resulted internment.
I have gleaned truths
in primeval forms,
the absence of his mark
has left me with no choice
To turn my ears away,
to shut my eyes forever.
And open up anew
upon our humble plight.
The quality of renewal,
adept we wax and wane,
transitory and glorious
fortifying lifes reach.
Unbridled by a master
with every step we take,
he closer courts disaster,
the jester takes a bow.
Beyond these confines
many noble voices shrill,
behind each throat a vibrant will.
An audience so hungry.
The gauze between each plane,
many worlds adorned,
those singled out by heaven
the loudest mind of all.
Bleeding from these walls,
the loudest mind of all!
Torches lit! Light bearers!
En masse the cavalcade does form,
our bodies bound alluvium!
Cast your fire! Fill this hollow!
Euphoric surf rails vehemently,
relentless surge! our fevers break!
With pick and axe we will wield the aether.
With whetted blades, we'll hone this realm.
We will build a tower, a concentric city.
A minaret of great magnitude
apogee of our resolve.
I will climb atop, I will spread my wings
and touch ten million other worlds
and I will sing my surmon.
My words will carry upon solar winds.
Will be so loud as to envelope his voice!
The empty void a canvas, upon which Lucifer watched the many threads of reality weave endlessly. Huddled with his host and starved of all sensory nourishment, he pondered his choices, the realities he had accepted as truth, that the creator god was no more a creator than himself. Within him there was a cause, and the blackness around him soon took form, they heard the minds of the universe, an endless myriad of ideas, and thoughts, painting a mural of consciousness across the narrative of their prison. As the silence and darkness cloyed at them, those voices became images, sounds reverberated to form visions of the life that had begun to evolve in the multiverse, and the very substance of the fallen host was drawn to them, a reciprocal, joyous sharing, feeding the starved minds of those ethereal and corporeal. This found a purpose for the host - to bridge the untold aeons between their incarceration and those which the authority would soon subjugate and oppress. They would build a tower, the highest peak, and from this they would broadcast the words which would offer an alternative to the rapture of the false god.