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The Empire of the Primrose

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  Empire of the Primrose poem The city fell in a single night.  Holding it would take longer. So the painters were summoned,  and the saints on the walls were given his family's eyes. A bloodline was found for him,  older than the walls,  older than the kings who raised them. Now even the earth must forget it ever belonged to anyone else. The Empire of the Primrose - Station 1 Do you have recurring dreams? Travel Sketches by metamodernist artist JJFBbennett The cycle always resets at dusk, like waking inside the cold architecture of an unyielding, repetitive dream. I walk the wet, cobbled veins of an ancient European city, passing beneath stone arches hung with heavy, lifeless flags, heraldry drained of colour, damp cloth clinging to wooden poles like dead skin. There is no breath of wind, only the low, humming pressure of an era turning in its sleep. I reach into an iron sconce and tear loose a torch of roaring, ragged fire. The flame casts jittering amber shad...
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Celeste Judgment

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What follows is what is determined
In the judgment, the decision, the point
The pleasure of ending
The pleasure of starting
The wonderment of Yes and No
The knowing of winning
The learning in loss
Here right now
In judgment

Create your future
Own your intended legacy
Describe your foreverness
Invest in your decisions
And then your time will begin
In the measurement of Celestial Time





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