wisefool

The deepest and oldest of earth liquifies into a molten mixture perpetually releasing the sacred souls entombed in the ancient stones. Freshly delivered spirits spring forth, eager to express their old ideals to the young world. After aeons of patience and contemplation, exultant eruptions burst forth into reality, into existence, into the consciously known world, making new layers for the world to see. Temporally repressed by successive generations, finally bounding back with intense recoil after crawling through epochs of time to form effectively well-directed intentions. A cycle, layers bury layers, the transient freshness quickly covered and compressed into an extensive state of silence.

Different breeds of plates now advance in a headstrong duel of forces, feuding stampedes of opposing convictions charging forth towards a monstrous collision, a battle of Wills, of absolute confidence and strength, a conflict that will birth a powerful mountain, fused by an unequivocal Greatness. A conjoining of opposites, a destined unity, a subconscious attraction, a symbiotic support, and an eternal embrace. The inevitable junction of Yin and Yang.

Long-subdued revelations stir deep within. Landslide debris descend through cavernous shafts gradually collecting in the central rift of Yin, progressively re-uniting, an ever-growing unity with strength and pure form. The pebbles of Yang, now resting in the deep-seated core of Yin, retain mountainous vibrations, an inner rumble a calling out from it's original stone. Hearty young boulders, as pure as the mountain from which they broke forth, taken from their gorge by the few white-lined men of Yin and further fractured by muscle and dark steel. Purposely fragmented into small pieces too subtle to be seen by the keen eyes of yinfolk, then further dispersed to lay down the foundations of culture and to put up great walls. A wicked world of darkness founded on the stones of Light.

Millenia later, white-lined descendants, half-breeds and quarter breeds alike, begin to see microscopic glimmering lights in the skies and on the soil beneath them and begin to sense that same ancient inner rumble growing within them. The resurgant vigor of Yang is returning and is now embarking on the upswing, finally climbing towards its crescendo of strength. A reversal of the universally subconscious authority, a overthrow of Vice and a rise of Virtue.

A vast greatness is arising, unbounded by sky, to permeate all things, to crack the stubborn layer of the masses collective mind, to radiate it's warm light of mercy and to melt the darkness from our hearts.

A touch of Yang within, a buzzing magnetism flutters from the core signaling the most severe yearnings to surge and pulsate, to tingle and agitate. An inner radiance making itself known, a central force prompting momentum, an inner fission between the old and the new, a nuclear reaction with a byproduct of time.

I levitate in the space in between; compressed and stretched, stretched and compressed; slowly being remolded, reshaped and conditioned to properly teach my youth of the oncoming new age.

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Say hello to my frontal lobe.

reign3

This will take a while to digest and dissect but what I can say for now is that I love the format you use. I like the concept of bridging poetry and prose to convey your message in a vessel more descriptive and unharnessed. I've struggled with finding a way to do just that and you seem to thrive in it.

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Yar