Memorial DayLong days and happy nights,
K.A.K.T.
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With Blood I WriteWhen we open our eyes in the morning, we perceive simply what our minds allow. But if one day we should see swimming darkness, then what shall our consciousness sow?With Blood I Write
You understand the frailties of the mind, as you always have and always will; but you occasionally forget the blind ignorance which our minds will commonly instill.
So when we open our eyes on the cresting of tomorrow's morn, will you see things the same you did today, or will there be a new consciousness born? Are your insecurities to give way?
When you speak of God and Titans past, &nb
by ~khef-and-ka-tet
CosmicosophyNebulae, iridescent and prismatic; therein mysteries found reposed. Imperious beings of the Universe.Cosmicosophy
Infinities undiscovered by time do not seek
Vice.
Betwixt these infinities lies connexion.
Not vice, not virtue.
Corpora. Corpora. Corpora.
For death is the only connexion all things share, except for they who cannot die.
We have the pleasantries of ending. They do not. They do not.
Infinity is a long time...
by ~khef-and-ka-tet
The Clouds' PlightThe clouds pass above in a race to the East; Where do they begin? Where do they stop? Do they start in Sierra Nevada and end at the Rocky Mountain tops? Is that what I see at the top of that earthen heap? The resting place of clouds amassed? I've seen many clouds: big and little, clumped and spread thin. And I ask where they've been. Across the Great Plains, over fields of gold? Over pine forests waving in the cold? Above quarries, drowned limestone and shale? Through farmland, over old red barns and hay bales? As they pass over me and I watch them migrate in the early morning sunligThe Clouds' Plight
by ~khef-and-ka-tet
InevitableThe transient summer months--as a press Of lime may turn the smile of a child, wild Enough to endeavor in its bitter Squeeze--burn the uplifted spirit into A comatose state of ignorant bliss.Inevitable
Though summer's blessing remains but a short While, the spirit seeks reprieve from the burn In the refuge of bitter wind and ice. To yearn for frigid-draft as the topsoil Yearns for the Sun's warmth and cloudburst, always!
Yet, when winter is in its deepest state, One seeks a summer afternoon--when the Sun is at its highest and the hardpack Warmed. When one yearns
by ~khef-and-ka-tet
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- Current Residence: Indianapolis, Indiana.
- Interests: Literature (prose, poetry) // Science-Fiction, Fantasy, Horror.
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