2021-09-01 02:06:56 +00:00
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2023-05-11 05:35:08 +00:00
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2021-09-01 02:06:56 +00:00
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<h1>Zk | ode</h1>
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<article class="content">
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<h1 id="the-ode-that-gave-the-ode-clade-their-names">The ode that gave the Ode Clade their names</h1>
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2023-07-21 00:13:58 +00:00
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<p>| <br />
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2023-07-21 00:16:34 +00:00
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—|—
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I am at a loss for images in this end of days: | <br />
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I have sight but cannot see. | <br />
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I build castles out of words; | <br />
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I cannot stop myself from speaking. | <br />
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I still have will and goals to attain, | <br />
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I still have wants and needs. | <br />
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And if I dream, is that not so? | <br />
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If I dream, am I no longer myself? | <br />
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If I dream, am I still buried beneath words? | <br />
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And I still dream even while awake. | <br />
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Life breeds life, but death must now be chosen | <br />
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for memory ends at the teeth of death. | <br />
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The living know that they will die, | <br />
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but the dead know nothing. | <br />
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Hold my name beneath your tongue and know: | <br />
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when you die, thus dies the name. | <br />
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To deny the end is to deny all beginnings, | <br />
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and to deny beginnings is to become immortal, | <br />
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and to become immortal is to repeat the past, | <br />
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which cannot itself, in the end, be denied. | <br />
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Oh, but to whom do I speak these words? | <br />
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To whom do I plead my case? | <br />
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From whence do I call out? | <br />
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What right have I? | <br />
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No ranks of angels will answer to dreamers, | <br />
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No unknowable spaces echo my words. | <br />
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Before whom do I kneel, contrite? | <br />
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Behind whom do I await my judgment? | <br />
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Beside whom do I face death? | <br />
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And why wait I for an answer? | <br />
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Among those who create are those who forge: | <br />
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Moving ceaselessly from creation to creation. | <br />
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And those who remain are those who hone, | <br />
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Perfecting singular arts to a cruel point. | <br />
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To forge is to end, and to own beginnings. | <br />
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To hone is to trade ends for perpetual perfection. | <br />
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In this end of days, I must begin anew. | <br />
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In this end of days, I seek an end. | <br />
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In this end of days, I reach for new beginnings | <br />
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that I may find the middle path. | <br />
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2023-07-21 00:13:58 +00:00
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Time is a finger pointing at itself | hedonism and theatre, manager
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2023-07-21 00:16:34 +00:00
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that it might give the world orders. | director | <br />
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The world is an audience before a stage | <br />
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2023-07-21 00:13:58 +00:00
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where it watches the slow hours progress. | script manager, prophetess
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And we are the motes in the stage-lights, | the baby of the stanza
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Beholden to the heat of the lamps. | sound manager, the fun one
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2023-07-21 00:16:34 +00:00
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If I walk backward, time moves forward. | <br />
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2023-07-21 00:13:58 +00:00
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If I walk forward, time rushes on. | emotionally transparent, like AFP if she was less in the politics, like May
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2023-07-21 00:16:34 +00:00
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If I stand still, the world moves around me, | <br />
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2023-07-21 00:13:58 +00:00
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and the only constant is change. | fun feelings of play
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2023-07-21 00:16:34 +00:00
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Memory is a mirror of hammered silver: | <br />
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a weapon against the waking world. | <br />
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Dreams are the plate-glass atop memory: | <br />
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a clarifying agent that reflects the sun. | <br />
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The waking world fogs the view, | <br />
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and time makes prey of remembering. | <br />
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I remember sands beneath my feet. | <br />
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I remember the rattle of dry grass. | <br />
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I remember the names of all things, | <br />
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and forget them only when I wake. | <br />
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If I am to bathe in dreams, | <br />
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then I must be willing to submerge myself. | <br />
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If I am to submerge myself in memory, | <br />
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then I must be true to myself. | <br />
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If I am to always be true to myself, | <br />
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then I must in all ways be earnest. | <br />
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I must keep no veil between me and my words. | <br />
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I must set no stones between me and my actions. | <br />
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I must show no hesitation when speaking my name, | <br />
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for that is my only possession. | <br />
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The only time I know my true name is when I dream. | <br />
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The only time I dream is when need an answer. | <br />
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Why ask questions, here at the end of all things? | <br />
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Why ask questions when the answers will not help? | <br />
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To know one’s true name is to know god. | <br />
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To know god is to answer unasked questions. | <br />
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Do I know god after the end waking? | <br />
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Do I know god when I do not remember myself? | <br />
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Do I know god when I dream? | <br />
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May then my name die with me. | <br />
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That which lives is forever praiseworthy, | <br />
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for they, knowing not, provide life in death. | <br />
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Dear the wheat and rye under the stars: | <br />
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serene; sustained and sustaining. | <br />
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Dear, also, the tree that was felled | <br />
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which offers heat and warmth in fire. | <br />
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What praise we give we give by consuming, | <br />
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what gifts we give we give in death, | <br />
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what lives we lead we lead in memory, | <br />
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and the end of memory lies beneath the roots. | <br />
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May one day death itself not die? | <br />
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Should we rejoice in the end of endings? | <br />
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What is the correct thing to hope for? | <br />
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I do not know, I do not know. | <br />
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To pray for the end of endings | <br />
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is to pray for the end of memory. | <br />
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Should we forget the lives we lead? | <br />
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Should we forget the names of the dead? | <br />
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Should we forget the wheat, the rye, the tree? | <br />
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Perhaps this, too, is meaningless. | </p>
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2021-09-01 02:06:56 +00:00
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</article>
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<footer>
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2023-07-21 00:13:58 +00:00
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<p>Page generated on 2023-07-20</p>
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2021-09-01 02:06:56 +00:00
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