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Old 09-19-01   #4
Frozen Horror
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Join Date: May 2001
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I will post this poem again , because here it has too much to do with this landscape. I enter the castle now and starts to watch and float silently, As ether glimpses do when the thoughts fill the air... I see snowed mountains, and black forests. These windows are really productive.

How many times could someone be in love,
the same times than in hatred.

The castle now was a beautiful sight for
someone who wanted to kiss the night.
The walls seemed to be velvet skin, with
onyx brights which entertained the thoughts.

The waves sound could build details on the silk
of secrets and the anxiety by which all this was created,
lurked around the chest of the interested until making them
whisper a non sense sentence, trying vaguely to understand the entire feeling at once.

When I came into the main hall, I could notice the presence of the solitude itself.
A cold ambient filled the great hall, decorated with a natural blue. I was quietly excited and a feeling grew upper & upper into me.

I realized the window was a thin frozen crystal plate, enormous as only in this castle it could be.
The room upstairs was a perfect ancient cavity, full of nothingness and holes of pleasure.
There in a bed of confusion, I met the underestimated emergent egocentricity.
An impossible kind of marble face, pretty as itself, pronounced my rare name sweetly and sadly.
But there was gladness in the wet eyes of the image.
I wished to kiss her wounding lips and I did. And if they were wounding lips it was because I coudn't hold in myself the pain that the sole vision upon those pretty dreams, caused to me.

And our night passed through, full of agonies and miracles, full of spirit laments and lovers whispers. I evolved, I enjoyed, I learned, I became the book. Now I am, I see, I have.

I know this can be difficult to understand, at least the important part of all this.
But it is extremely simple, one just has not to be a pusillanimous rock, standing at the edge of the first way one finds.
Constance and knowledge. Ego. Balance.
Write your true existence, your true script with the fingers of the mind, with the willpower papers, with the ink of all those dreams you thought they were never going to be.
Let the acts be the words and let the idea be the universe.

Forget the conjunction of situations. Because it is erroneous. It is part of an everything that shouldn't exist because it doesn't exist divided.

Breathe the air of the ambiental cold land.

Now, tell me, if I am looking at the windows of my strange perfection castle, why don't you do the same ?.
I moved here. I got it. I will do everything impossible.
Because minds are so empty that nobody entertains me at all.

Time?, All.
A truth, a death...

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