The Smile of the Unvanquished

At the witching hour and while a keen cold breeze draws open the night sky to envelop the scene in the silver beatific light of heavenly origin, the elders and their novices walk in procession to the loch, shed their robes and immerse themselves into the silent miasma of waters covered under the oily drapery of the celestial vault's reflection. They swim towards the middle, devotion seals their mouth, their hearts beat strong. There they create a wide circle, treading water. Eyes shut, the soul sinks deep to the outer regions of its bedding to walk over vulnerable spot in the fabric of space-time that their pale bodies in relentless motions have confined and aroused as towards the center rhythmic dykes of rolling waves ringed with white horses frothing in effervescent display of joy and glory. Mental capabilities little understood sweep over the breach between one world to the other realm. Labouring, exciting, moulding and honing and finally conjuring a creature seemingly ...

Mares are articles of beauty, saddled for the wild ride; they lash through thorny undergrowth, where pain is braised in unctuous hot blood. In screaming wounds the sun pours her golden hairs -- these threads rich in venomous preserve. My bleached corpse fades into a cloud of scaly parchment and wavers soon as a fluttering swarm into the heavens to hail their seething lust.

Cre´ance (krē´ans) n. 1. Faith; belief; creed. 2. (Falconry) A fine, small line, fastened to a hawk's leash, when it is first lured. I have, as you may know well at the present, a penchant for obscure words as well for the archaic usage or definition of a noun, therefore deviating from the more habitual act of employment. :)

My first attempt to create a motivational poster. :)

the wind swirls fields of grain, golden and burgeon. the skyline melts into the thalassic velvet, your eyes the doorway to preternatural desmesnes. humble-born, the stature of your soul crowns the thunderous monoliths of untamed Sutherland and spins radiance of life where the glare of mourningfulness puts vigour to slumber.

We walk by in the ghetto of our continuance uprooted and burned from the inside; first like sharp twinges, annoying pokes, which accrue to a fugue of convulsions, the mind shouts out in an empty opera house, tongue ripped, a shattering silence courts the faithful officer summoning a last dint of pedigree, while his troops turn into drunken vociferous brigands. The threshold betwixt resignation and negation is our socle, hapless we scour the hinterlands of moody shores; none of their fields and cities amount to a pleasant idyl, the heart sobs tears of blood as our desire without a name whirls away behind the rustling curtains of astral symphonies. Still, we canoe through rapids and boggy waters in an open casket that contains the flexion of laughing dread;yonder greets our pendant, an unwieldy bungling tree exercising a pathetic balancing act to rest afloat in these milling bodies on the tips of its roots. We are in distinguished fellowship.

In prismatic corners ditched, shuffled among people, who are too excited in raping trouser pockets till the last stitch, so damn happy in beguiling oneself for the splendour of tinsel trinkets, animated in cheerful hugging company, hyena chuckles cracking in the February air overriding the washy caked eyes of goosestepping clocked wage-slavery. They enter a mirkly brown-shaded tavern, beverages and snacks stuffing the gaping mouths of their innards; vulgar roars of laughter fill the atmosphere of the room, nest warmth stabs you in the eye like the caress of a damp, briny smutch ejaculated unto your feverish stern face, like the blood you spat when your stomach was scraped, and a burst trombosis flooding your pants, while you shared loneliness with the company of your decomposing corpse. Walking by and fully realizing, never shall you rank among them, so broken in their limited scopes and bland achievements; failed initiations reduced you to a lumbering rusty inmate o...