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Obsidian static the puppet master

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  Obsidian static, the puppet master. (Verse 1) The crevice opens like a silent, dusty lung Air thick with minerals and a thousand forgotten years I'm rappelling down the sheer black into a chasm's memory My boots crunch on shattered polymer No sound but the suit's respiration But the stillness is a stage The jagged walls, they lean in now (Refrain) The Paraknowing a cold spike of dread at the base of the skull It’s not a thought, it’s a wave Static buzz. Who's the puppet and who is the master? High-tensile wires disappear into the light The tightening the silent pull above the gully (Verse 2) The godly face, brittle stone work It emerges, eyes blank and unseeing But it broadcasts a sharp spike of loss and profound love My logic stutters, snagging on the input An effigy , a sentinel or just a mirror I turn and see the audience waiting Small, white figures, balanced stone totems They are all part of it (Verse 3) The strings pass through my wrist Not from me, but through...
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My favourite image of the week 002

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MY FAVORITE IMAGE OF THE WEEK

23.9.17
#myfavoriteimage

Shamini



I can see the treasure of myths circulating between godliness and normality
Breaking through the walls of today
Reminding those of us trapped in the haste of work and process
There is a time within nothing matters, that where imagination reigns

 Bringing forth and into light, transience and wonder
If only I could have been there to see flight and fight 
and experience the tearing of perceptual fabric 





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