entropy and god

tattootattoo Posts: 7
edited April 2006 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
The hill was barren and flowing.
Desolate tree stands alone, picturesque, and in general, dying.
She was standing beneath it, tear-soaked by the wind. Above the sky is indigo and green stricken light, twisting like smooth-skinned snakes. The stars had all gone out, faded into the unquiet night. Her hair was not black anymore- it too had faded into obscurity.
The goddess turned away from the tree. She could do nothing more here. Powerless in the great void, unable to control the unending howl the rose up from it.
Perhaps sometimes, her eyes say, it is best to never love.
I shall die, her heart proclaimed. I shall die in a suitably melodramatic fashion, and generate false sympathy throughout the heavens.
Her soul was quiet, a little whisper. But it said nothing.
The hill was barren, flowing, empty.
Dead tree slowly loses itself to the whims of a suicidal god; the goddess stands still nearby. Entropy.
That morning, the worlds dripped from his fingers like dew from a leaf... [‡]
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • Astral StarAstral Star Posts: 129
    This is stunning!
    "If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to eachother." Mother Theresa
  • tattoo wrote:
    The hill was barren and flowing.
    Desolate tree stands alone, picturesque, and in general, dying.
    She was standing beneath it, tear-soaked by the wind. Above the sky is indigo and green stricken light, twisting like smooth-skinned snakes. The stars had all gone out, faded into the unquiet night. Her hair was not black anymore- it too had faded into obscurity.
    The goddess turned away from the tree. She could do nothing more here. Powerless in the great void, unable to control the unending howl the rose up from it.
    Perhaps sometimes, her eyes say, it is best to never love.
    I shall die, her heart proclaimed. I shall die in a suitably melodramatic fashion, and generate false sympathy throughout the heavens.
    Her soul was quiet, a little whisper. But it said nothing.
    The hill was barren, flowing, empty.
    Dead tree slowly loses itself to the whims of a suicidal god; the goddess stands still nearby. Entropy.


    utterly breathtaking,...
    "When a man lies,He murders some part of the world
    These are the pale deaths which men miscall their lives,All this I cannot bear to witness any longer,
    Cannot the kingdom of salvation,Take me home!"
    Cliff Burton R.I.PFebruary 10, 1962 – September 27, 1986
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