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arscaelestis · 3 months

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Dystopian Moon: Revelation of a Dream

Upon the farmhouse stoop we stood, beneath the azure gaze, Where Luna's sphere in daylight hung, a celestial maze. With continents and briny deeps, so stark against the blue, A sphere estranged from astral norms, presented in false hue.

"They've aestheticized the moon," he spoke, a statement darkly cast, A tapestry of power's weave, dystopian and vast. A projection in the heavens, where truth once freely roamed, Now an orb of grand deception, in silent sky it domed.

I turned away, a heart awash with anxious, pounding tides, Into the shelter of my abode, where uncertainty abides. "Why dost thou flee?" the shadow asked, a specter in my wake, Yet no solace found in walls that breathe, no refuge there to take.

The world outside, a stage of veils, where puppeteers convene, To drape the stars and script the clouds, to mask what must be seen. And we, but actors in the ruse, with sightless eyes we dance, To tunes composed by hidden hands, in ignorance's trance.

What doctrines sown among the rows of intellect's vast field, Are but the chaff of phantom minds, in gilded falsehoods sealed. The ruling kin, with threads of myth, weave cloaks of night so sheer, To swaddle firm the minds of men, in cradles wrought of fear.

And so we question bedrock truths, foundations turn to mist, As phantoms rule the firmament, by alchemists' own twist. Reality, a whispered dream, that slips through grasping thoughts, While overlords in silence scheme, in cryptic shadows wrought.

The moon, a sentinel of night, now cast in doubting role, Reflects the turmoil of our souls, the chaos of our whole. For what are we, if not but pawns in grand celestial play, Where truth is pawned for pageantry, and night consumes the day?

Our spirits, restless, seek the dawn, where certainty might dwell, Yet find ourselves on checkered grounds, betwixt our heaven and hell. The wool, so thick upon our eyes, obscures the paths we tread, With every step, the ground gives way to more doubt's web instead.

So in the dream, the moon revolved, a symbol of our plight, A globe of artifice so vast, it shunned the natural light. Yet in its counterfeit rotation, a truth begins to cleave, That even in constructed lies, the heart will still believe.

Arouse, arise, O slumbering minds, and cast the veils aside, For in the light of piercing day, no shadows can abide. The dream, though heart to heart may race, a truth within it vies, To question all, to seek, unveil, the truth behind the lies.

---------- Backstory:

I had a dream last night, wherein I found myself on the porch of a quaint house nestled in the heart of the countryside, with verdant fields stretching into the horizon. Beside me stood a figure whose identity remained shrouded in mystery. Together, we gazed upwards, our eyes drawn to the moon that hung in the broad daylight sky. This was no ordinary moon though, it boasted distinct continents and vast oceans, mimicking the Earth's surface, complete with delineated national borders akin to those on a terrestrial globe. Unnaturally, it rotated, offering a panoramic view of its transformed facade.

I remarked to my companion, perplexed, "That's impossible. We only ever see the same side of the moon." His reply was cryptic yet revealing, "They've aestheticized the moon." The implication was clear, what we beheld was nothing more than an elaborate facade, a mere projection in the celestial dome.

A wave of unease washed over me, compelling me to retreat into the sanctuary of my home. The man inquired about my sudden disquiet, but before I could respond, the dream dissolved, and I awoke. My heart raced, the anxiety from the dream lingering like a shadow, refusing to depart even as I returned to the waking world.

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y2kgothicbarbie · 4 months

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The knowing

You probably thought that you'd break my heart; you probably thought that you'd make me cry. But it's okay…I swear, it's okay.

Because I know everything.

Everything.

I know everything.

Everything.

I think of our sister of sorrow, the keeper of pain and betrayal. She holds this pain with grace and beauty. She takes wound after wound, dagger after dagger. She delights in the pain because she understands that it makes her stronger. She is silently aware of all their wrongdoings. She allows it to exist in her space, a heavy blanket of darkness cast behind the horizon of her gaze. A single tear falls from her eye – a moment of weakness. She is overwhelmed by this sensation. It haunts her. The knowing haunts her. To pick from the tree of knowledge is to subject yourself to a life of torment and suffering. But what happens when we spot the fruit we must bear and do nothing? You let it fester and ferment until it rots and plunks down to your feet. Its rotted juices seep into your shoes and stick to your skin. Though you walk away committed to your ignorance, the juices of truth stick to you and the steps you take. These juices leave a trail in the dirt, showing others where you go to hide. You can’t hide now. You know, and now they know.

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tipsytruths · 7 months

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Evanescence

I can't help but let my mind wander into a maze of curious thoughts, wondering how the world would spin on without my footsteps stamping its surface. If I were to slip away, like a shadow melting into the dusk, how long would it be until they realized, until they noticed the absence of my laughter echoing in the corridors of their lives?

Would it take a day, a week, or a month for my vacant seat to catch their eye, for the hollow echo of my voice to resonate within their consciousness? Would they pause mid-sentence, suddenly struck by the silence that now fills the spaces where my stories used to dance, where my presence once painted the canvas of their everyday existence?

I ponder the moments that would unfold in my absence, the fleeting glances towards my empty seat, the unanswered texts left hanging in the digital void, the memories of shared moments gradually fading like an old photograph left out in the sun. Would they recall my face, my quirks, my idiosyncrasies, or would I become a ghostly figment, a whisper in the wind, a fragment of a bygone tale?

Would my vanishing be akin to a ripple in a vast ocean, or a jarring gap in the fabric of their universe? Would they speak of me in hushed tones, weaving stories to decipher my sudden departure? Or would I simply be a footnote in the ongoing saga of their lives, a passing character in the narrative of their collective memory?

As I toy with the idea of my own disappearance, I can't help but long for the reassurance that I am more than just a fleeting presence, more than a fleeting blip in the grand symphony of life. I wish to believe that my existence, however small it may seem, has woven itself into the hearts and minds of those around me, that my absence would leave an irreplaceable void, a testament to the connections forged in the intricate web of human experience.

But for now, I remain here, a silent spectator in the theater of my own musings, wondering about the fragility and resilience of the bonds that tie us together, the intricate threads that weave the fabric of our shared humanity.

I may never know the answer to the question that lingers in the back of my mind, but for now, I'll choose to be present, to be seen, and to leave my mark in the hearts of those who cross my path, for as long as I am here.

#DeepThoughts #ExistentialMusing #Connection #PresenceMatters #HumanExperience #late night thoughts #ERM

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militiaismyname · 5 years

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🔥 VOW - the single was released 4 yrs ago today. An ode to self-reliance and an anthem for a fighting spirit, VOW reinvigorates me every time I hear it. I hope it does the same for every listener. - Don’t you dare lay down and die. Happy birthday to my ‘first born.’ 🔥 . . #VOW #militiavox #music #originalmusic #solo #4thofjuly #letfreedomring #rapheevanoff #feminist #feministanthem #feministmusic #existentialfeminist #existential #existentialmusic #rock #metal #heavy #dark . . 📸 @rapheevanoff (at New York, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzgCYmGJlg4/?igshid=1700c3li7j70x

#vow #militiavox #music #originalmusic #solo #4thofjuly #letfreedomring #rapheevanoff #feminist #feministanthem #feministmusic #existentialfeminist #existential #existentialmusic #rock #metal #heavy #dark

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