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Perfection manifest, long-drawn soul - sublime, divine, uneven whole.
The mountains raze up through clear-cut shoots, eternal pastures, uniform roots. Inescapable beauty triumphs o’er all the world, surpassing, transcending, re-mending through. Still waters, ancient grass stays new - absent from the earth-bound dew.
Wings beat once, shred the blades - speeding, unrelenting, through ways unpaid. Long due, but overseen, unlooked, noted slowly in the book - beyond the chalk, the marks of sin, beyond, beyond, then welcomed in.
Sits, and spits, upon a flower. A crystal, fragile, ugly thing. Detached from blood, theft, lust or greed - planted spanning want not need. That burning, churning want for all - to cleanse away the perfect whole, and leave behind untainted soul.
The taint is life, the dead seen rise - the pure ascending past evil eyes. Past the reach of fire and stone, past unrepresented, excluded throne. Up, up still - ways part the cloud, and through the ever-stretched-for holy shroud, to earn the wings, to hear the sound, of righteous pealing, warning bound.
Stay - stay, innocent child - the grass is dead, the woods compiled through meaningless pursuit of bloodless, lifeless, never-wild.
Eternal - drawn-out shells of white, the darkness gone, the wrong put right.
Eternal beams of aching light.
Please. Please, reject this needless crown. Among the fields you may not frown.
You may not cry, or shout or scream - you may not want, nor claim or dream. You may not run those long-cracked tears, you may not hold your mortal fears. You may not lie to save your grace, you may not sigh or hide your face - you may not, may not in this place.
You may not slump from weeks of pain, to let the dark slip in, regain - you may not, nay, you must refrain.
Spits again, on virgin soil - the naive, hollow never-toil. Never felt the tap of rain, the blood-wash, plough-sweat, nurtured grain. Never trampled by fleeing hoof, never witnessed misspent youth - never moved by earthly faults, never struck by burning bolts.
Laid only for the vivid dream - not for living, life unclean - produced an empty, perfect green.
The spittle burns down through the plain, marking perfection with glorious pain - to summon up the one again, to see the black that must remain.
Comparison is life, the burn, the breath - without, all are wrongly equal in death
Two words, to wipe the slate anew - defy the true, ascend through blue. Guilt must surely depart too.
Over the mountains he comes, streaming down above the empty beau - come to see the winged one show the praise, the love of days unseen, passed through wisdom, through life into wondrous beam of golden light. Held tight, to ever-loving breast - to hear, the mocking, beating chest - the living heart among the dead, hypocrisy of words unsaid.
Please.
Reject, again, this nothing life - your aim is false, with bladeless knife.
What is clean? What is light? What is truth? What is holy?
Alone, they are less than naught - indistinguishable, impossibly taught. You cannot split to black and white, never - look to the spectrum of light. The half-tint, glows, the grade fade through, the neon red to washed out blue. Each represented uniquely in you - monotone eternity cannot be true.
Wings and halo, long desire - ripped and shredded, fuel the fire.
Upon his word, the cloud of white - fist raised high, the need to smite. Pure or nothing, lest paradise be tainted - cleansed or condemned, no longer sainted. The punch - ironic wrath - bleeds down the veins, through the off-green stains, onwards - down again, past the spectrum end, until colours blend, the whole re-mend.
Falling through the mortal air, denied what was hated, ending what was fated - oh, to hate again! To lust, to need, to want and feed - to welcome the darkness in again, to wonder who, if any, are sane. To know the cracks, the pain, the tears - to love, and laugh, and nurture fears.
No longer bound by perfect wings, the ground towards, upwards rings. And brings the blood, the crack and spill - reduced to nil: eternity denied, life set aside.
Light bends away, the day long-set and met with nothing. Swells up beyond the horizon, wreathed in perfect, bloodied green - unseen to those acceding sure, long to reach the heavens pure, clean of dark. No mark upon devoted skin, no pride in trusting, golden grin.
The nothing reaches, drags the fallen in.
Please, reject - innocent child, reject.
See now, the black and white mingle - no longer clean-cut, pure and single. See them blend, and mend the white-worn side where imperfections should reside.
See the sublime slide back, reveal the truth within - the halt of time, the empty sin.
See the grey encompass all, lead into nothing, the even whole.
The mountains raze up through clear-cut shoots, eternal pastures, uniform roots. Inescapable beauty triumphs o’er all the world, surpassing, transcending, re-mending through. Still waters, ancient grass stays new - absent from the earth-bound dew.
Wings beat once, shred the blades - speeding, unrelenting, through ways unpaid. Long due, but overseen, unlooked, noted slowly in the book - beyond the chalk, the marks of sin, beyond, beyond, then welcomed in.
Sits, and spits, upon a flower. A crystal, fragile, ugly thing. Detached from blood, theft, lust or greed - planted spanning want not need. That burning, churning want for all - to cleanse away the perfect whole, and leave behind untainted soul.
The taint is life, the dead seen rise - the pure ascending past evil eyes. Past the reach of fire and stone, past unrepresented, excluded throne. Up, up still - ways part the cloud, and through the ever-stretched-for holy shroud, to earn the wings, to hear the sound, of righteous pealing, warning bound.
Stay - stay, innocent child - the grass is dead, the woods compiled through meaningless pursuit of bloodless, lifeless, never-wild.
Eternal - drawn-out shells of white, the darkness gone, the wrong put right.
Eternal beams of aching light.
Please. Please, reject this needless crown. Among the fields you may not frown.
You may not cry, or shout or scream - you may not want, nor claim or dream. You may not run those long-cracked tears, you may not hold your mortal fears. You may not lie to save your grace, you may not sigh or hide your face - you may not, may not in this place.
You may not slump from weeks of pain, to let the dark slip in, regain - you may not, nay, you must refrain.
Spits again, on virgin soil - the naive, hollow never-toil. Never felt the tap of rain, the blood-wash, plough-sweat, nurtured grain. Never trampled by fleeing hoof, never witnessed misspent youth - never moved by earthly faults, never struck by burning bolts.
Laid only for the vivid dream - not for living, life unclean - produced an empty, perfect green.
The spittle burns down through the plain, marking perfection with glorious pain - to summon up the one again, to see the black that must remain.
Comparison is life, the burn, the breath - without, all are wrongly equal in death
Two words, to wipe the slate anew - defy the true, ascend through blue. Guilt must surely depart too.
Over the mountains he comes, streaming down above the empty beau - come to see the winged one show the praise, the love of days unseen, passed through wisdom, through life into wondrous beam of golden light. Held tight, to ever-loving breast - to hear, the mocking, beating chest - the living heart among the dead, hypocrisy of words unsaid.
Please.
Reject, again, this nothing life - your aim is false, with bladeless knife.
What is clean? What is light? What is truth? What is holy?
Alone, they are less than naught - indistinguishable, impossibly taught. You cannot split to black and white, never - look to the spectrum of light. The half-tint, glows, the grade fade through, the neon red to washed out blue. Each represented uniquely in you - monotone eternity cannot be true.
Wings and halo, long desire - ripped and shredded, fuel the fire.
Upon his word, the cloud of white - fist raised high, the need to smite. Pure or nothing, lest paradise be tainted - cleansed or condemned, no longer sainted. The punch - ironic wrath - bleeds down the veins, through the off-green stains, onwards - down again, past the spectrum end, until colours blend, the whole re-mend.
Falling through the mortal air, denied what was hated, ending what was fated - oh, to hate again! To lust, to need, to want and feed - to welcome the darkness in again, to wonder who, if any, are sane. To know the cracks, the pain, the tears - to love, and laugh, and nurture fears.
No longer bound by perfect wings, the ground towards, upwards rings. And brings the blood, the crack and spill - reduced to nil: eternity denied, life set aside.
Light bends away, the day long-set and met with nothing. Swells up beyond the horizon, wreathed in perfect, bloodied green - unseen to those acceding sure, long to reach the heavens pure, clean of dark. No mark upon devoted skin, no pride in trusting, golden grin.
The nothing reaches, drags the fallen in.
Please, reject - innocent child, reject.
See now, the black and white mingle - no longer clean-cut, pure and single. See them blend, and mend the white-worn side where imperfections should reside.
See the sublime slide back, reveal the truth within - the halt of time, the empty sin.
See the grey encompass all, lead into nothing, the even whole.
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Tresbiens, indeed.
Personally (i.e, ego-centric time), I found this description of 'sublime' to be one closest to my own, in the pure sense of abstract and extremely personal interpretation - half thoughts and absoloutely indescribable symbiosis of emotion and thought - as I said before, I think FFF is trying to convey a very hard thing in his mind, and sometimes it fails, but other times it works.
Very good, even if my interpretation was miles off, which I'm guessing it was ;)
Personally (i.e, ego-centric time), I found this description of 'sublime' to be one closest to my own, in the pure sense of abstract and extremely personal interpretation - half thoughts and absoloutely indescribable symbiosis of emotion and thought - as I said before, I think FFF is trying to convey a very hard thing in his mind, and sometimes it fails, but other times it works.
Very good, even if my interpretation was miles off, which I'm guessing it was ;)
I've read it through more than once, and if it were my choosing, the pure abstract rhythm and rhyme makes it the best of SSC7. Something tells me Sleepy will win though, as you've already judged recently.
Why thankyou.
That's probably my favorite bit as well :P
That's probably my favorite bit as well :P
This is the fourth time I've tried to read this but the first occasion I've had to read it from start to finish (interrupting me at work! What do they think they are paying me for?)
That was very wordy and hard going in some places but I had to read it complete to keep up with the rhythm. There is always something that sticks out amongst your words and I loved the following line :)
> Held tight, to ever-loving breast - to hear, the mocking, beating chest -
> the living heart among the dead, hypocrisy of words unsaid.
That was very wordy and hard going in some places but I had to read it complete to keep up with the rhythm. There is always something that sticks out amongst your words and I loved the following line :)
> Held tight, to ever-loving breast - to hear, the mocking, beating chest -
> the living heart among the dead, hypocrisy of words unsaid.
*waves*
Yes, I am and thank you. Only been here for a few weeks and quite a lot has happened since two years ago.
UW.
UW.
Tninka wrote:
> T'was good but shades of me in some sub-conscious way.
>
> I'm almost ready for re-encapsulation. And I shall enlighten you.
Oh thank God, you're back.
I was slipping away ...
Cheers anywho.
And you UW (I presume you're the same UW as from way back when? If so - hello again) thankee muchly.
> T'was good but shades of me in some sub-conscious way.
>
> I'm almost ready for re-encapsulation. And I shall enlighten you.
Oh thank God, you're back.
I was slipping away ...
Cheers anywho.
And you UW (I presume you're the same UW as from way back when? If so - hello again) thankee muchly.
Had a quick scan. This is pure excellence. Nuff' said.
UW.
UW.
T'was good but shades of me in some sub-conscious way.
I'm almost ready for re-encapsulation. And I shall enlighten you.
I'm almost ready for re-encapsulation. And I shall enlighten you.
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