III

The weight of the World Is crushing down Everything to the core. Despotically it protects From straying into the void Despotically it commands For omnipresent strength. I have fallen From the weight of the world And I am being pulled down Towards the center of being. It is as if Matter Wants to hold itself together In vain, against the cold estrangement Of continuous expansion. I rise to claim my Identity Against the grind of amorphous clay Pushing the soil down Destroying the Rock with my fists To see the Light of Day ~ Born to the world of Wonder Of endless promise and finite, abrupt reality With dreams directed towards the Higher dimensions Inbetween deceptive phenomena and elusive noumena The navel of Motherly love must be cut To escape the inevitable demise From the blazing hands of the Father Without wanton belief and asuredness The path to the gateway of cosmos Is a small ray, deep throughout the immeasurable darkness.

O Dream, a painter you are, vivid and exquisite. Winged and unchained, you lead me into worlds of lightness and magnitude. But the soil I set my foot on, is the sole I can feel. And so you return me, dazzled and bewitched, each time to it. Cold and hard it has turned, unattended. Where is my Will? Where is my Persistence? In my Dreamland I am Strong and Unbending. Soaring the Skies, defeating Tyrants, facing the Sun. The soil hides roots that go deep into the earth. With toil they are kindled, unveiling fruit hidden within. Slowly I must tender them. Each fruit is also a Dream. Of texture harsh, of weight considerable. If opened, it reveals a world of its own. Unique and unimaginable. But, things of Matter are harsh for my hands. They bleed from the thorns of Struggle and Necessity. Their painful embrace triggers remembrance, Of scornful past and accursed future. A burning ache in the chest, in the eyes, The grotesque dance of vermin under the skin And the fog starts to set back in again. ~ I awake within the forest. It is unusually solemn and contemplative, Almost sensuous in its near silence of faint gust and rustling. A drifting presence is felt near the bounds of my senses. Through the silver pathways of the forest I hunt for it. I cannot reach but its mirage, which gracefully flees. A trail with blood on its side appears. It leads to a deer which had its throat cut open. Then to a woman, severed in the same manner. Not with terror, but in inexplicable awe I move on. The red path ends in a garden surrounded by shadows. An altar lies inside, besides it, a dark figure. It holds two severed heads, each one the source of a crimson river. It turns over to me. The memory brutally unveils the curtain of "I" I look, eye to eye, to the concealed Truth of ages past. It commands me, pointing into the white stone. The urge to submit is abominable. I look away and run towards the Sun. In hope it is real and not part of a scenery that's falling apart. With every last ounce of strength, I throw myself towards the scorching heat. Defiant Fire of Judgement, for Now and Forever, measure my Spirit!

Βack in my youth, I built a graven image of my ideal self Grisly and colossal, which I've destroyed Its parts I put together and buried under a creek That went into a river that fed a mighty tree And I was content with myself and satisfied For I thought that brave is the one that rebuilds And that the beauty of the vision will be enough To become one with it I believed its time to turn the gaze outwards To speak, to sing, to never stop That I was full of might and wisdom And yet, after a while, my body hurt each night again like old times past... I must fall back into my dreamworld of lightness and allure In the lands of an infinite dreamscape I must ride again To breathe fresh air, to taste sweet fruit, to see wonders of magnitude... A gentle wave pushes my boat into the icy coast Snow covered mountaints around, embracing me with warmth Our fortress standing tall in the horizon, as it once was I see my ancestors clad in mighty red and gold, awaiting on the shore Yet, my hand goes through them as I approach An eerie silence pervades as I return Sorrowed I leave, heading into my solemn sanctuary To breathe again the sweet air of longing and rememberance Το read tomes of glory old, heroic songs of past deeds To drink from magic waters and see the dance of the nymphs As days, nights and epochs pass... I awake from a procession of people in the night They carry my sword which lights their road ahead They stop outside my door and plead to me And then I hear again the breath of the beast A rumble from afar shakes the ground beneath Cracking our fortress I join them and we march into the horizon's end The earth turns barren, a dark horde appears Engulfing all that the eye can see They charge into us with chilling screams and hateful wrath I wage battle, killing thousands with my sword, they fall Like ashen trees from a soft blow of the wind Yet there, in my greatest hour of triumph, everyone vanishes The cacophony of sound turns into defeaning silence A black dawn rises from the mountains Colors, shapes and forms become inversed Words and meanings in my mind suddently alter An infernal river that flows in my veins awakens I am of the same blood as the dark sun Ι see my anger and my pride mirrored on its radiance A voice deep as time speaks. "For millennia spread ideas created by the plight of the slave Who in great numbers sought to destroy everything excellent in man We let them be as long as they promised salvation in dreams But when they set their eyes on the tangible, they acted They have shed light on our temples and the foundation of our empires They fed the beast from the south, until its breath has cracked our walls The greatest truth we kept close, is that there is no God above But it the destiny of those who are strong to become gods Of those few among us, who shall rise through endless war Who will gain the trust of the masses, so that they offer themselves In the altar of our Becoming"

A breath, formed into the atmosphere, Rained down into the oceans Was led into a little stream That fed a spiral fountain. From there, drops of ocean blood Fell down into the ground And mixed with the earth Forming patterns, from chaos born. A child, full of wonder, arose Destined to walk the gardens of Eden. Uncertainty, its parting present, Potency its destiny. A manifest of cosmic will. The child wandered, hunted, killed and quenched its thirst from the marbled stone. And it rejoiced; but as time passed on, discovered there was nothing else to see, to hunt, to kill, to drink. In despair, the Man turned to his Mother The sight reflected on the water And returned with a vision of Self Transparent, he saw a multitude Of I's, each with the same spiral inside. "You, Fountain, who has given me birth You, who grew me into a Man, powerful and sane, Save me now from wither, madness and solitude" The Stone laid unmoved, in silence. The Stream continued to flow, in perpetual motion. The Man understood; yet his soul did not rest But was filled with the Fire of Defiance. He stepped into the crooked stone To ascend into the spiral staircase Leading up, into the heavens high Where the Breath of the Father was once uttered. At the staircase's end, way above the Earth, Nothing laid, but the blackness of space And the one primordial molecule, carrying the Word. "No eternity was ever promised to you, Child. To travel beyond the Stars, into the marvels of macrocosm, You must first conquer the smallest, inner void. To reach the point where universes intersect. My Word is forgotten, with every division, every new birth. Learn me, renew me, reach into the end of my telos."

Like the Wind, I sweep through majestic landscapes Wandering, lost, among endless deserts, forests, Deep seas and high mountains. They rise, glorious but melancholic around me. As if knowing... their own impermanence. How small and insignificant they make me feel. Then, time creeps in, and I remember Death. And questions do not leave me. Why did the first organic molecule copy itself? Did it think it could retain its consciousness that way? Or hoped that its offspring would someway, someday, escape mortality? Maybe through constant change and evolution? Gaia screams and coils around me. The organic and inorganic in union. Affecting and re-defining each other. Is it complete, that way, or still void, as ourselves, seeking for fulfillment? I see the pain and meaninglessness, and feel it deep inside. The cycle of renewal, of the demise of individual existence, is still one of tragedy. Why would we have attained consciousness, If we were always supposed to adhere to the Eternal Law? Is my Will opposite to that of the Outer? Or, can we forge paths of harmony, inbetween us? If I can dream, therefore I can transform. We are Warriors of the Universe. We are here for a reason. I believe it wants us to change it. It wants us to evolve ourselves, then our surroundings. But how? In what direction? Where is right and wrong, in the cosmic scale? Is it enough to be "good" human beings? Or is this feat, of such unimaginable difficulty, That every human must absolutely surpass the limits of one's existence, Towards greater and greater understanding, complexity, continuity, fulfillment. In a great mission to defeat Gravity, to liberate, once and forever, All Existence from the cycle of birth and death (bang and crunch). To extend into all dimensions, physical and temporal.