| A creator of mundanity. A shaper. A stonecarver. I live in the grey shades and the crumbledust. Chisel. Is my name. Seventh of the Fifties. My rank. I cut the rock. I love the girl. I save the earth. I end the world.Where the trees reach stratospheric, where the winds, waves and waters war with black skies and blue lightnings, where the green world ends, and ended… Where the plates of the earth flay themselves to sand, the tops of tall mountains pour forth shouting gouts of running flame, and the sun comes up on rare, un-thunderous days, a coldeyed Michelangelo shreds down the last sheds of hermetic human society for the sake of a sloe-eyed Juliet.Uncompromisingly blind, he vows; unabashedly brave, he acts; unequivocally fatal, he ends: quietly, desperately, inevitably destined to unearth the fifth living force of the physical world.And perhaps end it again, in the process… |  |
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January 29, 2014 By
