REALMS OF REASON, INSANITY, MAGIC & MACABRE

Don't Look Back

I have stepped into the river from the safety of the shore and swam against the current looking for something more. I have crossed the desert with no shelter from the sun and my thirst for knowledge was quenched by the One. I have burned many bridges, turned and walked away. I am searching to find something wise and worthy to say. I am here in body; my soul has become a quasar; I know what lies beyond - I know where you are. All I want to do is evolve as quickly as I can, but there is nothing I can do to change who I am. I will always be in this now, this illusion, this paradigm - I am reminded again, in this reality, our master is time. Walking through fire - feeling the heat but not the burn, walking on the wheel trying to make the earth turn, wondering, does this reality, really, depend on me? When I get to the door, will I be given the key? Should I knock on the door and ask to be let in? Will th...

I heard the church bells tolling. It was as if they were calling me to come inside. I stood on the steps that led up to the ornate gothic doors listening to the organist playing some unrecognized hymn. I was being compelled, could not fight it, I opened the door and stood inside the Narthex in a state of apprehension, though I had no idea why. It almost felt like fear, but I had never been afraid to enter here before this day, this time, this eerie summoning echoing from behind the next set of doors. I slowly opened one of the massive doors, trying to be as quiet as possible. I looked down the center aisle and saw a casket turned so that it looked as if I had entered upon a Mass for the deceased. I could also see that the casket had not been draped in white yet, so perhaps I had arrived early. I dipped my finger into the waters inside the door and made the sign of the cross, head to heart and then across from left shoulder to ...

Silence tiptoed through the old cottage picking up remnants of the stories told, like cobweb wisps of memories, gathered in long whispers and clinging to the weathered skin that still gives the appearance of living to these frail and empty bones. It was a long wait, and longer still as the snow came down in a fury, announcing winter’s long anticipated arrival. But she stayed focused in her determination to come to him, prepared to enter the gauntlet and celebrate her triumphant victory, claiming her rightful place at his side. The hours ticked by slowly but she did not agonize over the constraints of time. Time had lost its power over her along with the illusion of distance and now she would become the conquering force within the reality that was hers. She held fast to the visions of forever that spurred her onward. She would lay her gifts at his feet and bid him come, to finally join hands with her, “do not linger to marvel at worthless things, look at me, I give ...

In the chasms of doctrine and superstition, Standing at the brink of our delusions, Buried ‘neath the weight of my own contrition, Waiting for judgment’s final conclusions, Waiting for the moment of condemnation, Waiting for all the charges to be read. Sentenced to life’s eternal damnation, These decaying corpses of our undead. We who walk through the alluvial wasteland, Charged to witness our own perversions; Obscenities feeding upon the damned, Bound by the threads of our own aversions. M Teresa Clayton