The Other Side of Light (Part 2)
Like shards of a shattered, etiolated rainbow, the diseased and dying leaves float downwards on the icy breath of this early winter morning, whispering secrets of death as they rustle around my naked feet. The curse of sunlight kisses the grey horizon, beckoning all wretched living creatures to stir, dissolving my beloved world of stealth and shadow in the vileness of light. The wind is chill, so chill that it cuts into my bones with intimations of universal quietude, of the final death of light’s dominion.
In other words, it’s been quite a night and I feel like a flock of starlings crapped down my throat and my prick’s been through a pencil sharpener. But don’t worry…he’s still in there, waiting patiently – as Carol once sang so sweetly, “All ya gotta do is call…”.
I love weaving words. Especially at this time of the day, standing naked in my garden, directing a stream of steaming yellow piss onto the flowerbeds in the savage bleakness of winter.
For the adept, words have real power - I knew that even before he came to me. Now understand, it’s not the words in their own right. Any bloody fool who thinks he can recite a spell from a book and kill his enemy or compel a woman to his bed is just that – a bloody fool. But a magician! That’s quite a different thing. A man or woman who can resonate those words, filter and purify them with the power of the Sephiroth, hurl them out beyond time and space…. don’t worry, you’ll soon know what I mean…just read on a little more. After all, this is just a story, isn’t it? And words can’t hurt you, can they…? Read just a little further my friend, and contemplate with me the end of all things.
So where do you. think you’ll be when the curtain comes down– heaven? Ha! You bloody fool – hasn’t it yet dawned on you? When the last light goes out, God (with a capital G) will have finished with his cosmic firework show, and with you (yes, you!). Can’t you understand? Won’t you? Darkness is heaven. Death is the resurrection. He is the Lord of eternity, not the fireworks manager that sprinkled all these bloody stars all over the place like incandescent litter and then left for a long holiday.
Anyway, I’m going back into the house before my balls freeze solid, and before El Diablo in there finishes my bloody Glen Livet. (Yeah – he does start a little early, doesn’t he? I find that rather endearing.)
Shall I introduce you?
Are you sure…? Remember, words have power…
Okay, then… come in…
To be continued...