Sorrow
Here, that we stand in solemn rain
upon paths thought righteously follow,
the pyres of Saturn all slain,
lest us not forget the pain
when we shall bring them hollow;
the words that bask us in sorrow
Here, that we stand in solemn rain
upon paths thought righteously follow,
the pyres of Saturn all slain,
lest us not forget the pain
when we shall bring them hollow;
the words that bask us in sorrow
This series is based on the ambivalent relation between humanity and fire. Without it we would not be where we are today, but for all its merit fire (and especially flames) are always considered in their negative (destructive) sense. Here I tried to question this ambivalence through a highly aesthetic approach, wherein the thing of destruction is highlighted as an illusive and wondrous creation.
The mud of Time, the earth torments and guides us
to his shrine; in a river sickened
- I am the torturer - of star struck realities
(rabbits without ears) - nor human
misery, & so it is
that the watchmaker asks absolutely nothing, absolutely anything -
there it is - in deep sunken tunnels
that light ever keeps, a horror ascending the staircase;
a terror sleeping beneath the raven chest;
& here it was - in the filth I find the broken hour
of death, caress its frail breath and walk past
the treasure chest, past the mud
- drowned breath.
There for a moment exhaled life,
robust caress within the depth of night,
angelic dead - and it is Death
whispering through the chasms in time -
a touch of blindness purifies
Begin the earth & sacrifice the sun
time had but just begun, enchant the holy war
- the river conquers itself in crimson love,
joyous slaughter - a bleeding light
and the earth takes form in this tedious night.
Then at dawn souls create
their own form (& dance no more)
with the delusion of heart - past the crown
& into the dark; the blackened swans
take flight at the descend of velvet light
End the tale and revere not,
twilight stands ever disrupt
for only bitter loneliness enchants
the banal creation
And it is here, when Time falls to ash
that the serpentine touch welcomes breath
& destroys every single wish,
(a solemn word within a decaying kiss)
thus it feeds - thus it dies
the glisten forever to shine
upon a barren wasteland
the Created Eye.
An exploration into the relation of textures and the broader world. I seek to represent an interpretation of the world through details. What is created, is a reflection not only on the way we can imagine, but more importantly on the interpretations given to seemingly meaningless details.
Lovis Corinth
tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?
My Pen, so smooth ….
