|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
It Is SilenceIt is silence outflanking me every day.
It's the invisible walls everywhere. They do not watch me in a friendly way. I return these longwinded glances, an nothing is what I see. Consequently I refuse to make a halt, to doubt myself, I will not stay in front of them, I am going to walk right through.
You see, I am tired of life. There are no qualities left in it. I have no power left to share. All that still means something to me are the street lamps of november nights, these lonely lights, individuals uncountable, my quiet unworldly friends. Very soon I will join them.
NATTVARDENTillbakadragen har han intresserat
sig djupt för nattvardens mysterium:
hur bröd och vin förgår i mässans rum,
och vad som danas transsubstantierat.
Själv tror han nu, att ej finns mycket mer att
förtälja, just, än just det här, så stum
är han, vars cogito et ergo sum
förblir såhär försiktigt formulerat
"Där brödet svann i ljus bor all förmåga,
det ljuset är det vi förtär, och har,
och blodet lyser, det förblir i låga
och livet upphör inte, allt blir kvar,
för livet ställer alltid tidens fråga,
och frågan måste därför sakna svar."
EUCHARISTIC MYSTERYWithdrawn as always, taking interest
in Eucharistic Mystery, the changing
of bread and wine to holy substance lest
we all be bound to Doom, since Night is ranging
allover Day; that's just like always me,
now who can tell me how this happens. – Katie?
She says: 'It's obvious, why can't you see?
We eat the light, so utter plain and slaty
– like Nothing more! The light you saw is gone,
but now your blood is duly set afire;
since Life in quest of Time goes ever on,
indefinite, how could it then expire,
however we may put it to a test
– there cannot be an answer to this Quest!'
THE BOOK OF KARELIAFrom the Book of Karelia –
Forest rooms are silently changing, he is the fugitive, resting on the tripod of his running step, flying, tuning himself ever more distant in the chromatically declining music, the suite of hideouts almost within reach, ever more to the east, stretches instantly covered by leap, where distance dies and the landscape fades in blindness.
The landscape does not exist. Nothing has changed. A gradually evident return steals up to environments of equiluminous imagination. – A certain arrival of Time occurs. Momentarily standing, awakened he is: this is not day, this is not here. Here is merely a thoroughly sealed and invisible room and a lighting never for one single moment having been changed.
He listens in hastily blinded fear to relentless recital.
The music fades out; what a strange text is this.
To something we must relate inappreciatively.
Keep in Touch!
Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More