Thursday, 25 June 2009


So far removed, Beauty rises remorselessly through cadaverous skies only to shrink from her own reflection, but her grace and power gild her faith, for she is strong.

Love In A Void
Somewhere in the flat, black fabric, illuminated by divine light, can be found the remains of love, knowledge and wisdom, having long departed the uninhabitable.

Black Douleur
If a million people told me the sun was black, I would believe them, because, firstly, looking at the sun myself might cause me to go blind, and secondly, of the conditioning effect of such a compelling number. Is that faith?

The Reader, Reclined
My soul is most satisfied when given to contemplation, but knowledge alone cannot keep my body.
Servitude to strangers facilitates my own pleasure; the division of time between immediate pain and graft, and quiet contemplation of the future and the past, between them contrive stability.
My father told me I would sleep through Armageddon. For now, I must get up.

The Thinker
My life could have gone one of two ways, down the broad and spacious road to everlasting life or the narrow and treacherous road to destruction. I presume, hope, that I am on the latter, and that I am not suffering to no end.
It has been a long time that I have been away from you, and have little to show for it but a few scars, neuroses and ruined friendships. I have experienced lust, infatuation, brotherhood, collusion, but not love.
I was in love with the idea of you, but you seemed so far removed that I felt I should concentrate on what was closer. Some people seemed to hold you so close that they almost made up for my lack of faith, whereas others, a far greater number, denied your existence outright. That is one of the countless paradoxes about the world in which you have posted me on loan to learn my trade – why must we believe in what we cannot see when the actions of your hand contradict you so readily?

Je Vous En Prie
I come to you today because I don’t know where else to turn; I have turned my back on you so often I now find myself facing you once more. I pray you, please direct me, make something of me; give me something to do. I cannot act upon my own self-will.
I know that you know me better than I know myself, and that because I know your name you punish me harder than the ignorant. I live every day as if you are watching me, judging me. My existence is unpretentious, uncontrived; when you penetrate my heart you see no lie.

I live to praise you, even though my work is thankless. I must look only to increase my knowledge, and maintain my beauty, so that the strength and quality of my soul might one day hang in your gallery.

You Will See It As I Walk, And As I Sit
I have used this instrument to make supplication to you, my Lord, but now I must sell it. It has bought me wealth, and happiness; yet, as you have conspired, my fortune has waned, and I am forced to merchandise the icons I used to praise you.
It is spring, and as though you have taken from me to fertilise the soil, but I am not foolish. Your garden may be lush and green but whites and yellows crack; browns and blacks crystallise and spectral hues fade.
This instrument has faded with time yet plays more beautifully than ever. I shall use it once again to praise you, and hope you will change your mind.

Redundant Atlas
Who removed the burden of Earth from the shoulders of Atlas? If an angel rebuked you and became Satan, the marauding Lord over all the Earth, why did you not execute him immediately, you who are all-powerful, before he could rise up and supplant you as the dominant force of this universe?
In conceding your throne, you have precipitated your entire creation to the lip of a black hole. If you wished to put us to the test, to find how few of us deserve to be saved from ruin, congratulations – you have been incisive.

Baudelaire suffered to bleed the words for which he was persecuted, only to receive whispers of praise on his deathbed that he could not answer, for his late ailments rendered him mute.
Often those endowed with the purest minds died in pain and mediocrity, only for their gravestones to receive the flowers and glory, having faced only penury, disease, censorship, accusations of heresy, madness and blasphemy, in lives destined never to achieve their promised brilliance.

A Change Is Coming
The waters rise, and the walls grind their teeth in distress, but should have faith, for they are strong. The rich will enclave themselves in the mountains, leaving the poor to drown, but faith parted the Red Sea, moved mountains, and grew a tree into the heavens from a tiny mustard grain.

My house is one in which there is space for me, and only me, to study, reflect and create, designed with the objects of simplicity, functionality and sensuality.
The walls will not collapse under the cries of the gods.
The light is brightest when I am in the dark.

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