Deviant Login Shop
 Join deviantART for FREE Take the Tour
×

:iconorionsfist: More from orionsfist


More from deviantART



Details

Submitted on
February 16, 2006
File Size
4.2 KB
Link
Thumb

Stats

Views
22
Favourites
0
Comments
0
Downloads
1
×
maybe I'm going insane. perhaps my mind has finally had it. I guess I'll never truly know because I'll always feel the same. the mad can never tell that they have lost what small thread of reality kept them tied into the world, the true physical realm of taste and touch and smell and sight and sound, the place where everything falls toward the ground and life and death have meaning. maybe thats where the sun and moon really are, rising and setting in perfect tandem over a sea of endless people thinking its just for them. maybe the sun really burns with the light of dreams undreamed and sleeps unslept where light and dark meet fun and fear and a sad little man holds the broken reins of a tattered horse, really only needing to be fed and ridden and it will become the Pegasus. and then it flies nobly high above the clouds, soaring the skies lit by the sun from whence it was born and bridges the gap between sun, earth, and moon, connecting such unholy trinity in purity, a perfect white so majestic and divine it shines unshadowed in all the heavens, inciting awe and a wondrous fear over all who lay eyes upon it. for this vessel from earth to moon, moon to sun, and sun to earth again is valiant, strong, the noblest of breeds. there is none like him. and this dream undreamt gives rise to further still a sickly pall of compared nightmares where shadows of the bravest men become wretches of the foulest sort, with sniveling blade and sneering lip so twisted as to turn the heart of even the happiest fool. here in this irreverent state lurks the shadow of the great winged horse of before. A hulking, monstrous creature of bats wings and buzzards talons, evil, piercing eyes and coarse, matted mane. death itself commands this place, an unholy, wicked, dreadfilled smile entreating its gnarled, insufferable face. between dream and nightmare is the earth, that land of mad and sane unknown. and should one fall off into that wretched dark, riding upon the brutish, evil body of that horse of glowing eyes, then death will see him there. he will be brought to that which he chose and will lose his all and everything he still yet did not know he would hold dear. life will forsake him there, he will beseech and it will not know his name, for death has claimed him, and he has willingly gone. should such a thing perchance to pass, perhaps this man would fall prey to men of wicked gaze and worse thought, whose only joy lies in pain, and whose true nature lies outside of life. but should a man go up instead of down, ride the pegasus to the land of sun and moon and glowing sky, then life will give them solace there, rising up on perfect wings of gold and silver, the purest diamond, the finest silk, the holiest light, and opening the grand gate into a land devoid of sorrow and pain, where children run and never fall, where men never again must feel the bite of searing pain, where the moon smiles down in benevolence and the sun reigns from the highest of heights in perfection. absolute perfection. nothing in this land will ever lose its place, its bond, its way. death and evil hold no fortress here, nor even still a foot of land. the purest pure and the whitest white have forever banned the darkest dark and the most frightful fright, bringing man to a place where nothing dies and nothing fears and nothing, nothing ever goes awry and only then can anyone truly know what life is like when death is gone and fear is through. in perfection lies the answer to all things and in perfection lies the holiest of kings. perfection. it is all perfect. and thus it came, thus it is, thus it always will be, from then until eternity, should yet eternity be not enough, then on to yet a farther time, where number means naught and written word has passed into thought, for then is perfect too, when none must write or speak, but merely wish to be known and all will hear, and yet further still when even this need not be done. for perfection lies in perfect white and perfect silence, when none can see and there is none to be heard, when the mind lies perfectly calm and all are at peace with sun and moon and stars and sky. perfection then it is, perfection then it will be. it is all perfect.
stream-of-conciousness writing while I was in a strange mood. its interesting to say the least.
No comments have been added yet.

Add a Comment: