HyperionAnd so he awoke from twilight, synergetic phantoms ending the dream. The dream in which time and space were but father reality, entrapped, no enclosure, no brother hand to hold him high up in the desert skies...Hyperion
... blood undertow... Skies of yore, yellow, blue, no visible horizon, a never ending frontier. A frontier of the mind and body, all collapsed within and apart, two different entities. No thought whatsoever reliable, recoverable...
... war inside his brain... The master of his own sun, no moon, no stars orbit his fate, no red planet to sooth his visions, his
Higher MenWhilst such freedom is kept by a few higher, a few chosen amongst the hordes living on the edge of forever. Fate crumbles undermined by the light which eternity casts. Newborn air, wind of yore spawns death in such wild, earthly places as a fortress built of steel, of blood, of love. For it is but the artificers of love who achieve splendour and grace... such illusive thoughts, nothing is real, none is fake. We exist beyond our minds.Higher Men
The Fate Of WhiskersThe Fate of Whiskers and the Melodies Behind Their TwitchThe Fate Of Whiskers
As it was, an old day, a new night, a firstborn ray of cold and thawing light. The sky reflected a million eyes upon its watery self, a million wishes, pains, and voices. The wind carried the shadows of the dreams cast by the lovers, which admired the above as much as the above was marveled by them. The oniric world was now disoluted in one kiss, one stroke of desire, one vague thought of love. Silence then became present and the lovers stared into each other’s pools, the entire solar system in that gaze. He did not speak and by this he let her rest again forev
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Human race has deviated from the race for humanity... destiny has been raped...
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