the darkest i

the darkest

feel it  do you?

i

your world falling to pieces  nothing left to defend
nothing left to hold onto

i

you thought  you hoped things would change
you thought  you hoped that things would change from the worst  that a shift was long overdue

i

but things dragged on  and on  and out  and one by one all the great voices of change died and still

i

still we’re here  sinking still further into mrak

i

into long dark nightdom  into mordor  into mrak
filthy cold dark  and now you know

i

finally
you know  that this is personal  this is not in any way detached from you

i

it waits on you  on your despair  on your white towel thrown  your sell sell sell capitulation

i

for only then  only then  only now can things turn around  only when you accept the death of all you dreamt and hoped for

i

one  two  three



you mean to say that the system... the hologram... reality is watching me... waiting for my capitulation?

of course... how else?

but that makes me sound like I’m the centre of creation, the centre of things...

and where else, what else do you think you could be?

i      don’t know

no...  of course you don’t...  quite deliberately

huh?

to know would be too much to bear – to know how things are inter-connected, inter-woven magically... would be a dimensional shift, a whole new paradigm

words, meaningless words, easily spoken, promising the Earth yet delivering nothing

catch

huh?

catch a load of this

what? what are you doing? take it away... off me... i

you

i can’t move  breathe  i  no  it’s suffocating me

only words, surely you can see?

but they, these words are heavy, thick, accursed

accursed? only words, i assure you

let me go

i can’t  you have tied yourself to a way of seeing things, a way of perceiving which fails to recognise your power, your mastery, you have made yourself the darkest corner, the darkest line of code, for you have accepted the lie, the falsity, the grand fraud perpetrated on mankind and on you

i?

that you are powerless, that you are merely one, that you cannot, must not dance with the darkness when it strikes, when it chills your bones, paralyses your spirits, your mind, your light

i?

have become the devil you deny, the one to uphold a fool’s tale which has no hero, for you refuse to step up and play your role

i?

you

I?

you

i

you... until, unless you die creatively  until, unless you give the night back to the darkest and dance the demon devil back to front  until, unless you ken what lazily you claim to know, and kenning konig king your self back onto your kon’, your horse, bringing back the positive aspect of night, the kenight, the knight, ken i ght

ght?

kenow, your intuition cannot lie

ght? ght, no vowel?

no vowel, rightly so, pure masculinity

as in ghd?

as in ght

o

yes

o

isa

o

is

o

mm  0=1

i...

observe the heaviness, the magnetic gravitational pull that keeps you locked down 3Dly until, that is, until you be ready to embrace  engage  quantum flow  in-finity  the all that is  until you process negativity  otherly  finding the beauty within the Devil dance of letting go

letting go? in weakness, in despair?

letting go of the last final thing  preventing the change from coming in

the belief that i

the belief that you

am able to separate myself from it

and differentiate

and differentiate what not is

and differentiate what not is holding yourself aloof  apart  a thought thing

until that thought thing comes back to haunt me at the end of day

end of time

when i fail to king,  to ko-ni-ght  to let go of the matter in hand in order to re-embrace the naga naked all, the owl, the eel, the el, the gold-silver royal Or

so give me the night, beloved all that is, give me night that i may dance back the dawn

Come, civil night,
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
And learn me how to lose a winning match
Played for a pair of stainless maidenhoods.
Hood my unmanned blood bating in my cheeks,
With thy black mantle, till strange love, grow bold,
Think true love acted simple modesty.
Come, night. Come, Romeo. Come, thou day in night,
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
Whiter than new snow upon a raven’s back.
Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-browed night,
Give me my Romeo. And when I shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
Oh, I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possessed it, and though I am sold,
Not yet enjoyed. So tedious is this day
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child that hath new robes
And may not wear them.