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no. 4: A Great Wind

by b.e. rise


friends, listen and hear of the gift

bestowed upon me by the muse.



by my third Eye

I was lifted on Alluvion wings

and borne over

the vastness

of a Wasteland where

the Land bares its fossilized fangs

slashing atmospheres

the earth's molars chew the clouds

looking down on the aerial symbols

left by Ancients

displayed to the spirits of the Air

-sacred patterns

that anchor and pivot

the universe

I forced myself to drink extreme quantities

of the poison Liquors of the desert,

and lo, My anger and indignance increased

towards all those I felt had abandoned me

I wished myself an astroman,

My rockets jetting the aethyr,

running from sun to sun

- a voyager on a speedway

across the starless void

of genesis Night


Crashing like Thunderbirds,

rising like Phoenicians

in the lair of the Scorpion,

All the Prophets were witness

and under their aegis

I traversed the depths of Avernus

and emerged in an arena of Souls

filled with Host upon beauteous Host


I conversed with the risen Ancients

and wore

the Robe of Glory


My three Eurydices

nay one, brother

nay two, sister

yea three, brethren

led Me from the Stygian Deep

to the base of the Mountains of the Moon

and I succumbed

to the sweet succour

of Sleep's siren song

and the lull of Lethe's tide

I awoke burnt and blasted

by the desert's Solar Winds

on the edge of a great bluff

overlooking the City of Sin


I bore witness

to fantastic scenes of unparalled carnage

as the machines of Light

shot the Air full of electric veins

and transmogrified into

angry, pink neon angels of Death

who turned their baleful yellow eyes

on the plaguemines

and wrought pillars of Perdition's Flame

to scourge the obscene and Vampiristic,

the Devils of the white tiles

The polis razed,

My bones were drier than the Eureka Draw

but harken,

When all seemed lost,

the Waters came forth,

yea, and washed me

out across seas long barren

by the Age of Atlantis

Standing outside of Time

I saw the sunmakers at work

behind blanketing stratospheres,

their splendour revealed

above the trees

on the contours of a new Land


Now, everything is on it's way to somewhere

and some people need a God sooner than others

they need a secret from which there is no exit

listening to their age in whispering rooms


I cannot rest and wait until Armageddon comes

no, no, no

I can't wait on a God

if I'm a' goin' back to heaven

I must take to the eagle's wing now

straight to the shoulder of Orion

Shouting at the silver swept skies

and compose Salvation's symphony

for a great Wind is going to come

wilder than the hot Wind of Creation at my back

blasting through the canyons of the Ghostlands

with the vengeance of Pharoah

a soul cleansing gale

from the chambers of my heart

that leaves only the truth of redemption within



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