the-papyrus-divides-us

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

::a fusillade of predisposed carnivorous creation:: She wandered into the decaying roots that clung desperately to her tread like a phantom to the cloth; the staggering foothills slowly dissolved in unison beneath her saunter step. There was much resistance in the air despite her neglectfully adamant efforts to inhale the atmospherical wreckage deep into her bosom. She combatted dehydration within the ascending altitude by pulling licorice ferns from the elevated soil; lightly gnawing on their fibrous fabric profusely as if to draw sustenance in the flavor they exuded. [Meanwhile, the hours faded in a similar fashion. A filament reaching towards expiration; from mush to dust. ] Her consciousness lie tethered between something vaguely coherent and a mirage of mindless scrutiny strewn out in an elegant display of a silent cacophonous riot that could only be sold to merchants abroad and the endeavors they held ever so dear and close to the chest;  it was silent times that she knew most discreet. Somehow,  void of shape nor adequate form,  nothing appeared the way she had envisioned it to be. This was an acceptable fate; however malnourished and abandoned it came to be. She had hoped to discover finer things at the face of the earth's edge; where the sun dug into the sand and the ocean marched onward into the distance. She held her stature firm yet tall. She was aware of the mantra that stung deepest; with spirit comes no void. She found a rusted katana; one, that must have been cherished before time had forgotten to nurture. She thought to herself; the elemental discourse was rather uncharacteristic given the quality of the relic before her as it left an imprint in the creases of her mortal flesh. It was knowledge that reminded her that there was much more to be hidden within the ripples that folded in on themselves. There was a secret forged within the blade that held several centuries worth of answers. Unforunately, she only held a handful of open-ended questions like ribbons dancing freely in the face of a powerfully obedient wind that asked not for forgiveness. She spent the better half of that night with eyes crippled on the break of the tide. There was no reason in tow of the rhyme concerning the thoughts forever doomed to be comprehensive. It came to be that the messages she sought to dissolve would be the ones burnt brightest in the wake of her own solemn antithesis. She wept, in part of the fact, she knew she was holding a hand that had long passed before her. She had felt the comfort in the ridges of the handle that wilted smooth with age. The tsuka felt more than perfect. Almost as if she had coined the tool herself and spirit had melded the divinination to outlast many reincarnations. Perhaps in another lifetime she would experience this phenomena first hand and out-live the current state of purgatory she felt that she was was very much intertwined with. Her mind wandered starry-eyed in the open-ended abyss as the night ushered the day into it's own sacred haunting grounds. Her ears struggled to keep the same time signature as the wind began to speak riddles into a nest of leaves beside her. She thought to herself, "i come from the future to enhance the past. With the day striking firm it would only be natural for the evening to cling fast." If only to be reminded of the hours that crept ever close  in her time spiritual aversion. For sadness carries a voice that no ears long to embrace. The spectre that would only roam within the creases of the stones that had been laid in ages before her time spoke quaintly with a unrecognizable haste. It could only be the very same breath that folded the pages of an age yet to be silent; "please cover the spine; the ash and sage that blanket the patchwork soldered by the flame wield patterns in birch cedar; they are nothing more than heresy." Despite her truancy , these lessons held zero promise.  She reflected on a time where consequence rung heavy;  a place where sound renounced all echo. She carved a cave into her soul one-ness and escaped temporarily into a state of blissful absolution. A place where reality accrued no preset limitations and primordial law remained obsolete within its finest hours; golden, yet unscathed.

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

::the anonymity of the cavalry was congruent to the curse carried by the catalyst::

She often steeped her bones in shadow beneath the lip of the most recent and profoundly stoic reincarnations of Gaia. Upon her brow she caught the tears that fell from the rocky dimples of a spirit much greater than her own. She knew in her heart that the very same storm possessed the ability to wash away the sorrow that pressed inward.

It was within the isolated realization of the pelagic; that she would dare to perceive a turbulent potential to unearth the four legs that would often swell beneath her anatomy in a synergistic implosion of austere discipline. This act of affirmation would sufficiently enable one to sprint towards the creases that kept hidden the binding agents that also cradled a story; a legendary prowess, several times, bound between the shelves of the ethers and doomed to sustain equity over the intolerance encompassed by the veil of shadow that consumed the self-righteous.

There were many days that had accumulated within the mortar that bandaged her delicate psyche. She questioned whether or not the pattern was impermeable to the designs she was fabricating within her minds eye.

By now a puddle had formed at the foot of her open grave. She peered into the reflecting pools of perseverance and felt as tho this was the very first time she had seen a face once all too familiar. Often times she could glance into the days set to transpire and find the strength she deemed familiar to the reins she begged to harness.

There was no soft caress in the eyes that spoke to her on this night so grim. In time she had reclaimed her vision and gave one last heartfelt push towards excellence beside the boatman whom rowed in the rivers that lead to apprehension.

The spirit of the warrior goddess refused to respond. Her body grew light yet constricted, her face began to shudder, the vertebrae in her spine had created new cartilage for her spirit to embrace. She wondered if this was to be the very moment that she would begin to transition into the woman she was destined to be or if she was just doomed to expire within the fray of the hours that refused to be inoculated.

There was a slight hum that echoed in deaf riot as it became trapped within the reverberating coils that provoked a highly-conscious state of self-awareness. This particular buzzing sound was a vessel to the process for transcending the lateral hemispheres of the mind.

Her mind cauterized the spaces between her ability to apply logic and reason while simultaneously ingesting a desire for the impulsive. She had began to mend the disruption between her meditative practices and a most favorable appetite for haphazardly reckless self-indulgence.

She had become aware of the various elements that fizzled within her being; furthermore, every last cell had somehow recently acquired some uniquely sentient qualities of their own. Each muscle group, whether it be intellectual or otherwise, began voluntarily enhancing its own capacity for integrating insight.

Her arms and legs began to quake with tremors of uncertainty; her eyes widened in efforts to consume the knowledge that flowed like magma into her soul. She could feel the colors of the wind growing vibrant within the cellular cartography of her bones; begging her to decompose. She fought the agonizing urge to break down and bow her head in subservience to powers that be.

She knew she was losing friction to the passing of days. Her awareness in this endeavor carried much sustenance. For many years the doom-ridden terrain had only honored one insight. Within the seed of mindfulness, true wisdom may flourish. Be that as it may, the seed continued sprouting with the awareness that one day the plots of potted earth will be sown leaving the beds behind to become tombs.

A simple commodity necessary to the evolution of all that combats the evaluations that are always overdue. If only to outlast a design forged within the marbled hands that sift thru the decadent sands of time; unphased by mortal recourse, bouyancy has become the only fathomable currency worth expressing value.

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

::counterpoise as the objective::

She walked for the days that ceased to exist. A winding path that preserved the ample quantities of a true raw organic beauty.

The abstract features presented before her unconcealed eyes; were otherwise revered, as they issued vacancy in their remote and in-navigable locations. The sanctity to be discovered far beyond any sort of catatonic dettachment held by any lantern that had either burnt from within or along-side reparation.

She walked for the nights that were residually obsolete in their initial appearance; the hours that were ever-so intricately placed alongside every imaginable conveyance of forward movement.

The clydesdale she had born saddle to had staggered amidst the rustic detriment that arrived non negotiable and nontransferable; to any life to be found outside the ornate or without reason.

There were said to be barrels cast from tungsten carbide steel; the very same ones that smoldered in the distance far below the surface of the auburn hillsides rocky exterior.

The rrustic and residual howls of the projectiles that eviscerated all life; lie stable within their own accustomed geometric proficiency. The spades that were cast in the turnstiles had approached with a brash and academically formidable apathetic resilence.

Many hearts bound to dig foxholes in the windswept and fractured glass granules of time; as they vacated all premonitions of the effervescent. The patterns of grain would glow with a metallic presence of the intimate; compressed while still linear in their organic design as they reintegrated their energy thru consistent repetition.

Coral formations sounded to the dimming of beacons on the shoreline. A handful of marked vessels that traveled with a precarious resentment for the unknown found solitude within the damascus of the reefs cast abroad the landscape.

Within hearshot, all knowledge of said bounty had been claimed to be the undeniable proverbial truth.

It was sincerely confirmed by all whom could doubt at second glance, that her position in the universe was in fact; to remain undetected within the remote antithesis of a dishevelled state of neglect.

The quantum mechanics of her most definitive attributes portrayed within the confines of her involuntarily suspended cardiac animation were naturally void of unification. Every limb moved synchronized while disjointed. The burial plots that resonated within the walls of her tomb were complex, yet indigenous and solemn, meanwhile subjectively perpendicular to the afterthought of death.

Her soul was divided and pulsating with an abstruse series of precursors deadset with iron placements beckoning a sanctioned arrival. Her sights gridlocked with a slightly beveled edge; course and abrubt, the anvil on the razor’s edge. As if to say the enigmatic contours of her soul emphasized a rendition of the anatomical reminders set in line for those whom wander between the waves and against the grain.

She rode with a rhythm that neglected contemporary foundation, and yet, she was braisingly influenced by a source that grew ever-so cold within the angular motion of the feverish claws that echoed in deaf riot to the verbiage of a tongue long lost and forgotten. The windswept moisture that was condensed, lie crippling; pressed firm and indignantly lacerated under pressure as if to be a diamond blade graced by the whetstone.

Their crystalline structures were soft and impressionable as they fell from the sky; comparable to damp clay her heart remained above the changing of seasons. The storm that had immediately bore holes between the pores of her earthly pantheon lie vicious below the surface. The cracks in her flesh grew together in a rapid phasing of elemental discourse. As the rifts swiftly sealed in defense to the unnecessarily pragmatic winds of the ill fortunate strewn about so carelessly; her eyes sunk far below the tear ducts that mapped her prowess. She had once again turned her sights inward as they reflected the many battles she had won and lost. Each rib was fractured and repaired with a bonding agent found only in the presence of flower petals that fell from the grasp of thistles and thorns. The leaves that may descend on occasion, yet cease to wilt or find true peace.

She knew by the shape of the flakes that fell into her crystal orb; that she was destined to transcend every sunken vessel that insulated the seabed, she is the reaper of the wolfsbane coursing thru the surface of the reefs in life’s coral corral. She is the taproot of the golden tree that breathes with undivided attention to the rogues that run rampant in Valhalla.

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

::a neoteric foresight to be cherished:: Well versed within the prose of the bountiful; the precious and the graciously gifted. Her thoughts provoked inquiries that lacked corresponding counterparts. Enveloped within this particular process of synesthesia; she interrogated the powers that reside within every molecule infinitely small as well as the infinitely colossal. She pondered the ample opportunities that lie placated before her. In retrospect they were only to be witnessed and accepted as nothing more than a systematically implanted collection of abscesses within her own diluted reality. She thought of the divinity that would ensue if she were to be invited to die a thousand deaths within a pre-existing achromatic lifetime. In theory, the bones left behind would be fabricated into fences as durable as the most resilient re-engineered metal alloy; structured and sculpted kindred to spinal columns with kaleidoscopic floral inlays transitioning between the absolute and complete nothingness. The transition from the achromatic to the luminous would initiate a marbled texture within the structure. All efforts in accordance to orchestrate a sequence leading to enlightenment. A trail neither high nor low; nestled quaintly between the filth of decay and the abundant beauty that her own spirit reflected. Her well disciplined gaze pneumatically coursed its way thru the vast spectrum of paradigms always shifting. She moved within and without each passing variable; always reliant on her own interior mechanics to transcend the fractalized debris. Every departure from the present left sidewinding violently in betrayal as she inoculated a steadfast ambiance within her soul; carving a narrow path on middle ground with a fearless and almost grief-stricken combination of salacious fervor and apathy. She had been sent to enhance the lesser and far more abstract configurations that were analogous to the places from which she had been courted in the most profound practices of renunciation. The mawkish steel she utilized as a compress to the most frigid of days was impermeable to the rust often exuded from the pores of her enemies rancid flesh. It was not in complete darkness that she struggled; it was within the unattentuated wavelengths brought about by the sun's monochromatic light rays that she had found mortal discourse. The ligatures cast from the core of shangri-la would be clenched firmly between the loosely bound threads of her digits; the numb fissures that melded like mercury to her every whim as they refracted the inner light that emanated from her eyes in the twilight. Her body run rampant with an electrical current that held enough amperage to power an entire continent fully populated and void of nearly all natural resources. When she danced, it was said that the voltage she emitted within these particular moments were of a very acute nature. Shaman from many lands abroad had premonitions found only in dreams where they had witnessed the event of new stars having been conceived in the dust that must have blinded the consultants of space and time.  She bore a burden for none of whom that tread thereafter may ever quest to fathom. Her artillery was said to have been forged by the hands of the Gods that possessed her nimble spirit one evening after a great flood had come to cleanse the evil that consumed the land. The torrential devastation claimed by the earth had done nothing to maim the creatures of darkness, but rather enhance their primordial stature. It was said that one great deed was set to prevail on that fateful night. It was from the sacred elements that lie below the surface having been unearthed and readily scattered for her display. She was then gifted the insight and the necessary tools to conquer an organic evil. With much time and effort, her persistence would be the most viable resource discovered, the one leading her to salvation. Soon thereafter she was believed to cling life dear to her chest as if to say every leaf, crimson or sage, was golden within the depth of its own infinite framework. The bitter after thought; all that was built to expire; designed for worship and bound to eventually decompose. All to be destined for the life that succeeds any preliminary examples of true beauty. Her hands tainted with the dense yet slightly liquified sludge and soil; the extract of terra cotta sharp like peppermint. Her every breath as fresh as the ripest nectar; the smell of cut cedar wafting ashes of volcanic cinder.

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

::Carnivorous Peripeteia::

Countless days and nights were spent hollowing out a vision set to thrive within the stratosphere. While engulfed within the overlapping waves of sludge; her foes had inadvertently discovered a unseasoned and morally indecisive, yet well kept manner of precision bound to corrupt the obsolete sanction within her soul. They had nestled their paths directly into the course of her poignant expedition; into the fog that was said to have nourished the terrain in the early hours of the day. By this time, she had claimed several of the upper terraces hidden amongst the vacant and desolate hillsides. Shortly before leading to her monumental discovery of the impervious valley of shrines that lie buried below. Dually noted; the valley had been previously uninhabitable until this godforsaken course of history had been remarkably diverted by sources that prefer to remain undefined within their cordially natural predisposition. The clouds had now settled within the trenches that were dredged many rains ago; the chariots of the wind reapers, have for centuries, traversed graciously amongst the sky as they had so many times before. The weather had carved fewer passage ways into the soft and malleable, yet tumultuous and unforgiving detriment of the earth for ages without the slightest inkling of resistance to be visualized. It was the path that she had embraced that had angered the omnipresent totems of Zion. Her knowledge had only proven to be applicable soon thereafter she had stumbled upon the mind numbing cerebral sights that had found their way; now woven into the fabric of her eternal consciousness. The moon had grown wise with the embers that smouldered deep within the intramural tendons that pulsate parallel to her torso. Her eyes had grown hollow as they pierced beyond the halo that sheltered the highly intrinsic moon. She inhaled deep; harnessing her inner demons as they charred away the layers influenced by the spirits that had driven fear into her concave soul. Within the short moment before a star burns to fade across the outer reaches of space; her shell began to blossom from her bosom. She had noticed the halo that encapsulated the moon began to disrupt with a subtle frequency humming distant. The once auburn glow began to fade into dust, possessing similar qualities comparable to that of a burnt cypress, before the leaves had initiated in a sequence void of form. The moon, now siphoned of the dark matter so infinite, began to augment in half steps as it transmuted into a pure white orb of light. She reminisced of the marshes and the meadows she once remembered. The archaic silhouettes dancing on the edges of the horizon; as if to say they were summoning dark clouds that would never pass. There was a time when she believed that all things must one day pass. Unbeknownst to her, it was within these clouds that she became mindful of the impending despair that lingered overhead and drew ever-so near. It was time that she bury the seeds that were forbidden to sprout. It was her fears that fed nutrients to the grounds she had inexplicablely doomed to prevail.

[the-papyrus-divides-us]

::the Austere Chiaroscuro Obscura::

Every evening, between the elapsed flashes that linger in absent darkness, as if to be of the only alphanumeric content extricated.

She is composed from a single frame, hung to dry in an abundance of turpentine mist that wavers with an isotropic hunger, the moment directly before her eyes seek solitude behind the flesh that encapsulates her skull, her mind withers and decomposes.

~ .:absolute:. ~

——elated——-

Every morning her body slowly begins to feel imbued with some vague semblance of redemption; a pulsating wave of rejuvenation courses thru the arterial nerve endings that ironically remain perpetuated by defeat; she reanimates from the sediment once left behind after the collapse caused by the many misfortunes the sundial had endured.

the former self that she once knew lacks the ability to feel as though all past lives were failures; the oddities that have manifested and materialized into the very most present moment that exists outside any particularly well known point of reference.

She breathes life into every new day with an afebrile longing for the next reincarnation her soul beckons to embrace. She fears not of her well being in the hours to which she has approached the inequilateral state of her own personal theatrum orbis terrarum.

 In this moment the aperture of her soul is radiating with divine interconnectedness as if her soul was to appear platonic and void of singularity. In which case, she is very much of the same likeness that re-invented her.

[the-papyrus-divides-us]