Monthly Archives: September 2011

in the cataclysm, of silence

Posted by IronHorse on

 

 

all that remains,  of a once grand and glorious Because,  now lies hidden in the dust and detritus of a thousand kingdoms and empires come and gone,  buried deep in the wells of our wishes and wistful sighs of what might have been,  the scattered shards of our dreams and desires strewn heedlessly beneath the timeless advance of ideals and ideologies long forgotten,  and those not deserving of remembrance . . . we have built monuments and monoliths to honor that which holds no honor beyond the fleeting adoration of the moment,  while holding hostage the very futures of our children,  in exchange for the paltry ransoms of our immediate gratification . . . we have edificed soaring and gilt-splendored temples to our gods,  that rest upon a billion bones of the unredeemed and unworthy,  as we kneel before the machinery of our faith,  that we might find salvation in the very promise of our ingenuity,  while compassion,  love,  and kindness slowly fade from the pages of our story,  because tomorrow bears no witness,  in the mirror,  of our once upon a time . . .

 

 

 

from ZanaDew Falls,  Seen VIII:  The Time before Until

 

 

 

The Gleam, in God’s Eye

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Inception

 

 

 

“   and when they first made what became known as Love,  in the dark crucible of their

            infinite loneliness,  Galaxies were born,  and these,  were The Children of The Sun . . .”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thy Corona

Posted by IronHorse on

 

 

The Ring,  Round,  The Sun

 

 

O

it does not

 embrace my finger,  nor

wrap around my wrist,  it does not

hang from chain,  for neck,  nor ear,  is kissed,

made not of gold or silver,  nor any jewel from the sea,

no trace or mark,  no crest or seal,  nor fancy filigree,

two shards of iron,  welded,  by a circle of steel,

and there in the nest,  of my palm,  it rests,

to remind me,  the road I walk,  is real,

I hold it for Ever and for Always,

until One Day,  so grand,

when Ever says,

I am home,  Angel,

     and lays it,  in

     Her Hand . . . for

     it is just a Keyring,

     where hangs,

     from Her Heart,

     The Key,

     so joined,

     as The Tears

     of Infinity,

     They,  as

     Love,  Again,

     will Be . . .

 

 

 

from Book III,  The Diamond ( Third Beginning ) The Seventh DoveTale – The Breath of Angels

 

 

PostScript:  this piece was recorded as being written on July 4th,  1996,  though I believe the actual keyring was given to me by a very dear friend,  about and for whom so many of these early stories were composed ( and,  to this very day,  I have never met ) and shortly after the  encounter with the lightning took place in ’95 . . .

and the story within this story,  is the remarkable fact,  that I carried this small keyring,  in the palm of my left hand,  held in place by the tip of my ring finger . . . every moment,  every hour,  every day,  every night,  every week,  and every month . . . for four years . . .

and,  on its own,  this would seem quite bizarre behavior,  but there was a bit of purpose-driven madness or motivation beneath the surface . . . for one of the very first things I had to learn,  in order to deal with,  and therefore write of,  the endless river of thoughts and words that flowed through that period of my life,  was Patience . . . and holding that keyring,  for that long,  and in that manner,  was the only way I ever would . . .

regrettably,  the keyring was lost,  in the late Fall,  of 1999 . . .