And so it begins with the dimming of the candle light that once burned bright with such intensity of hope and dreams now benighted by such a darkness that consumes and forsakens the horizon of what once was and never will be again. Like that of the changing of time and seasons from the liveliness of spring to the withering and despair of winter. You stand here in this equinox divided by the decision that lay ahead to break what seems to be this pre-determined destiny or to write a new chapter that will give testimony to the things that plagues the minds of mankind. Like that of a saviour, disciple, or martyr your words will live on to tell a tale of a past life and the karma there within held, written in the blood of those who be damned, tainted by the memories of the impure in this crusade of self revoloution and revelation. Discard the mind of the one who once bestowed such knowledge upon you, your kingdom will crumble, but my memory shall remain instilled in your veins, your mind and your heart like a curse that possesses your soul, dictating your every move, I will be remembered. For I am the rose, the thorn, the disease, and the cure. I am your maker, you my apprentice, I am your supreme ruler and you my hand-made god. I am the revoloution and revelation you seek, I am the answer, I am you. And now the candle no longer burns at all, because the flame, the hope, and the dream are all dead, like that of the death of a thousand suns, forever eclipsed, shrouded and sealed into a tomb of eternal blackness never to be resurrected again.
Written on Jan. 10, 2007 at 2:37 A.M.
