Midnight reveals itself (& revels in the revelation); Chaos dances mad juxtapositions across the discontinuities of a splintered mindlessness... |
Swift spirit blown from the dark spaces between the stars... Dream tides... rising with the surge of night's sea... Voice of enchantment, calling to me... Lost... lost into moonshadows... Dream of crystal moonlight... The emerald bells of hope throb their longing... The birds of night perch among the lilies... Pools of moonlight reflect the glimmer of ancient stars... Movements in the mist... Still, the tinkle of bells as from an infinite distance... A wisp of a vision of voluptuous delight, disappearing into a mist of light... Sleep singers sing their songs of strange rapture by the waters of the abyss. |
Art by Norman E. Masters
And here am i, with my weary longings... The moon, bathing my vision, The moon, flooding my soul Deep, deep, into the sleeptide of dreams Washing me to water, streaming mistily into the moonlight Mysterious path of Light to the stars... Emerging from the caverns of the moon... Domes of crystal... yonder... yonder... Domes of crystal upon a sea of glass... All the shadows of the moon... the essence of their Mystery... Condensed into a single Dark Crystal... MoonCrystal of MoonShadows... & the shadows dance... |
Art by Norman E. Masters
O shifting visions, glimpsed in DreamLight...
Again the sound of the emerald bells
: whimsical variable of the ebon non-matter of chaos...
From the edge of the abyss into utter chaos...
Whisperings... luring me into the deeper night
beyond the borders of earth...
A dark enchantment in the air... a whisper in the mind...
Promising the bright shining... from the edge of the abyss...
She... a haunting phantom of delight...
But... too... the Metamorph of the Shadows... shredding time...
These discontinuities in history/juxtapositions of chaos/
alterations in the time-continuum...
Dream-metamorphs of yesteryear who have passed
thru the Mirror of Time,
Transpsyches from NoWhere, NowHere, come to harvest
The dragon blossoms swept-in on the dreamtides
-- strangely glowing in the luminous fog...
Beware the Shadow People from the Edge of the Abyss...
Whisper of wings in the vast void...
Face out of Nightmare -- the Essence of Midnight...
Face out of Nightmare -- from the other side of the Black Veil
Midnight reveals itself (& revels in the revelation);
Chaos dances mad juxtapositions across the discontinuities
of a splintered mindlessness...
The Abyss of Shadows... swallowing dreaming souls...
Dark Hole sucking me unfree into its maelstrom of
outside-in confusion,
The gibbering Dark gnawing inside my head...
"You're better off dead... you're better off dead..."
Black dreams pulling me toward the black vortex of the unseen...
Oblivion gibbering inside my skull...
The gibbering Dark... wanting in...
Ghosts of the dead pawing at my mind, humming eerily...
Set me free! Set me FREE!
of the murk & gloom of doom, of Death's ultimate ultimatum
A world is ending...
a world is ending...
& the world is Life...
Wrack of matter & the crack of the world...
Fished-up from the weltering deep by Night-Spectres
& down from the shimmering air -- the dream-sailor,
Sailing the spaces of the sky, between the stars,
Vortexed thru the ruins of a shattered Universe,
Shivering in the Face of the Abyss...
I am a refugee from Infinity --
Cosmic & eternal upon the dreamtides...
I have been fated to travel ways far & solitary & strange...
Ways that required suffering & sacrifice;
I have seen the shifting visions within the crystal castle,
Where dwell the half-remembered dreams of forgotten poets
Rising white & mysterious in the crystal blue,
Like ghosts of prayers to the mystic moon...
I have beheld the Metamorph of the Shadows
Shredding time for compost for some new mutation-of-dream;
I have tasted dark wine from the chalice of fear...
Son of Time, I am one with the spirits of the Children of Time,
Baited by Night-Spectres, swallowed
into the Unknowable that lies ahead...
Beyond the Edge... a mist of Light...
Out of the Death Shadows... the Phoenix Song...
Light-Bringers... Aeolian Harps in the breath of Dawn...
Swift spirit blown from the dark spaces between the stars...
Then gone again... like a dream...
lost upon the sea of morning...
I drifted ashore, a refugee from the dreamtides...
~~Norman E. Masters
17./18. November 1985 |
Art by Norman E. Masters
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