Resurrectional Apolytikia;: muse

Oct 12, 2014

My Silver Lining

Posted by Quintessence Of Illusion

When the sun suddenly decides,
It aint gonna shine today
You’re the candle that
Made me wanna pray…for me!
You’re the high of streaking in rain
Along the shoreline
When I’m thinking I’m leaving
Everything behind…of me!
You’re the sense of touch that freezes
Against the glistening snow
You are my silver lining bordering the dark clouds.
In August you’re the calm breeze
Unwavering in your graze
Silently stroll into my
Deepest, darkest maze…with me!
You’re the treading cold grass
On a highway nude-feet
When I know someone will
Stop and give a lift…to me!
But you’re the sense of touch that freezes
Against the glistening snow,
You are my silver lining bordering the dark clouds.

You’re the immortal quotes of moments we’ve spent,
My one-time motion to what I’ve openly dreamt,
A kiss on a local bloom-swathed ordinary lane.
You’re the nausea of restless, aimless epochs,
The fits of rage and the laughing-it-offs,

The escapist’s journal on a night, storm-blown

You’re my everafter
My pain and my laughter;
You’re my scarlet fever,
Reason why I am now so weak…
You’re the lyrics of this song,
Written by a lost-child found,
Riding a tinkering merry-go-round…

You’re the sense of touch that freezes
Against the glistening snow,
You are my silver lining bordering the dark clouds

Nov 12, 2013

Addiction Or Redemption?

Posted by Quintessence Of Illusion

There's just enough truth in the travesty to allow one to sympathise

There's glitter sprinkled on the floor dropped by the glittering fireflies.
Insomnia has never been fond of Daydreamers like myself

On the table lies glittering memories, arranged in a row

Corrupted by despair, tormented by human cruelty, seeking salvation in a kind of simple good-heartedness .

Haunting nightmares with unsettling twists of logic, symbolism and night and thoughts sometimes add up to nothing more than confusion.

From self-inflicted addiction, to a holy premonition ,spun with the meanderings of a handful of fictitious nobodies

Experiencing lucid dreams ,too thirsty to drink, once bitten, twice shy.

There is fiction with friction, jaggedness, juice, and those of us who have made our way beyond reality

I will externalize my consciousness, to set it down in words.

Defeating our demons, is beautiful to behold ,the irritability never relents

Divine intervention or diabolic redemption?

Bluntness is a misdirection that underlines the depth of my empathy

The process of mentally freeing myself from an insidiously limiting self-mythology.

Can you keep a secret my love ?
Come closer, let me tell you
Let me press my finger to your lips,
Let my lips brush your ear,
Let me whisper what you already know,
But I know you long to hear.

You should not expect a conventional emotional catharsis, as it would violate my forlorn sense of life as a maddening puzzle with little solution.

Oct 21, 2013

I Can Only Give You Moonlight

Posted by Quintessence Of Illusion

Aug 15, 2010

A Story Without a Name.....

Posted by Quintessence Of Illusion

It was a necessity in His heart that He think about her. His hearts affection, which created the heart and everything around it thought it complete perfection to create a story an intimate story in which she would live, move, and breath smile, dance and laugh before dancing and laughing had even been born. It was in her life that these beautiful things would be setinto motion and His vision that would see that they would arrive at the purpose His heart dreamed for her.

He knew her before He wrote her into the pages of this epic, He toiled with the ease of a breath the goodness that and would shine every time she smiled.The desires of her heart preordained by the hands of
Her unknown Author. The curiosity of her mind crafted around the intricate surroundings the Author made for her.Why did He do all of these things? Because He could,because He delighted in art a Divine expression that had never been put into such eloquent words.

The story was an interesting one for it was a progression a ball set rolling down the hill gaining momentum but not choosing the direction, so He gave her choice. He sighed as He created choice, the ultimate ending to a story hardly even started. Freedom in bondage in the same word.Hope and conflict wrapped in every moment lived outin this intimate story by the hands of choice. A fragile gift in the hands of this inexperienced creation; choice would become the very intangible hand that would turn the page.

How delicate a beauty He created her with. In the image of Him but flawed to show the perfection of the Author. She had the capacity to life in its full,but chose less often, because her heart was always searching for something greater. Little did she know her life was wrapped up in the pages of this novel and the Author was her true love. He created her, because He delighted in her. He did so not because He needed her,but because in the depth of this Author there was a desire to be wanted, needed, and chosen. And she would
all those things in time, her time, and His.

The book itself, a romance. A daring romance lived in the pages of the present. It all lead to the ending, but
one simply did not hop to the end. She certainly did not have that choice. It consisted in the journey, in fact "Itwas all about the journey." This journey that would for eternity be traveled and lived, this journey that had a destiny and ending. In the ending the story truly started and the Author and the beauty would enjoy for all time, all time that this choice lead her gracefully into.

What would a romance be without the hero that would sweep her off her feet? In all honesty, he was a filler, a means to pursue the beauty inside this story He had so carefully written. He was the hands inside of the Author's intimate story, so naturally He created him in His image. He even made him first, so that when beauty stepped into this world of His she would have someone who would be so instantly captivated by her beauty and His creation. The Author found no need to create heroic traits of this leading man, because in
creating him like Him, he would indeed be a reflection of what it truly meant to be a hero, and so much more.

It was a dance in this story, this world and everything in it.Sometimes life would take her by the waist and spin her and lead her every which way, until He would ever so politely ask to cut in, then He take her in His arms and would move together in perfectly imperfect steps. Little did she know, by getting to know the hero was she experiencing a fraction of the One who loved her so much. Therefore the hero's role in this romance was not ultimately to sweep her off her feet but to point her to the Author who could truly make her weak at the knees.

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