The gate (pt. 3)

[Sepia]

"What can change the nature of a man?"
- - Ravel Puzzlewell

"Mankind is kept alive by bestial acts"
- - Brecht/Weill


Dum. Dum, dudedodedudedo, chords, chords in the deep. We are in the mines, we were always in the mines, deep under the skin of our earth and our consciousness, deep we were as we heard them there in the deep. The dwarves were dead, small corpses all around us, beards and nails that kept growing longer but there was nothing holy about them, dead children in mail, stout children but children still, children with beards and wives with beards and children with beards in cities with beards and countries with beards- we were deep down, we coud hear the echo, we knew we heard what we wanted to hear to make it all go further and delve even deeper into, into the fear and the monstrosity in our belly, we sought destruction and in it salvation and revelations, we sought an end to it all but we wanted more before we ended, we wanted to be more, we wanted to be all that we could be even if it were for mere seconds. If those were the seconds we would relive, the fear the knowing the thrill the sex the transcendence the ascendance the godhood the buddha the jesus the mohammed the rooster on top of the cabin, turning as the wind turns, turning black as a black wind blows

It feels like a sandstorm, the bird making sounds as if someone was torturing it, working on it bit by bit with a dremel and the sound of sand against glass, like chalky nails on a soul, cold faith baring its teeth, giving us the music to bury friends to and we listen to the records as we gaze up on the stars, the parts of her not yet dead but soon to be as all meetings end in separation and the final movement is death. You wont feel it, wont feel a bit, not a sting because you are growing numb, we are, I am. Battle it to care, ignore it to ignore reality, a solution to living life with friction but the numbness is creeping all over, the perfect entropic horizon covering all the lands, covering us in sand

birds

The birds are on our side as we drive onto into onwards the deep, hearing the drums beat, the feet marching perfectly and the beast in the belly has awakened and we are alone and we are unarmed, torches in hand as the great hall begins to shake to the thumps of feet and we try to break the rhythm, just to see what happens, we know this part of the story, we have seen it and lived it, we have dreamed it many times but with a different ending and some say an ending doesnt matter, that it is what comes before or what comes after but everything always matters, every little piece, nothing can be ignored for we are all intertwined through the randomness of objects, to it we owe our lives

Nothing else