}}Force Power{299} 
Post by Corran Horn on Nov 25, 2010 1:10:29 GMT -5
THIS IS NOT STAR WARS. 
The city of light death and dreams.
(Naga I Sol Tace Sadow.)
The man on the mountain.
There has been a millennia of darkness, light still exists it is just there upon convenience to promote life.
The man who will not be moved stares at the sky. He has long forgotten that it stares back.
Incessantly searching, yet moving would mean his centre of gravity would be compromised.
He will not permit that.
Caught on the mountain, he finds him self above the clouds and the earth. His eyes hold all.
His eyes are always open, shutting them would mean the thickening darkness that never forgets it's self.
His feet are strong as thousand chains tie him secure to the face of the lonely mountain. The man stands composed. Eyes of steel, arms at their sides, no wind, sun, heat, cold, will move him.
For a thousand years all the armada of Hell, all the legions of Heaven would not move him.
No sweet melody dances off his tongue.
His steady breath, methodical.
The city of light death and dreams below, listens when his voice shakes the sky.
“I will not be moved.”
For a thousand years, no wind, rain, hail, axe, burning fire or sword would move him.
The mountain became tired and was stolen once again by time.
The mountain sank away beneath the earth. Yet the man stood still, his foundation removed.
His soul was slain. Nothing held him up above the city of light death and dreams.
He screams and shakes within his chains.
Yet he continues to stand still, composed.
The darkness in his heart binds him to abyss where the mountain was established.
He reaches inside the silence. He suffers. The song within him vanished. The cold winds gnash it’s teeth , and despair rains. All day and night he looks within to find strength, for strength abides within his bones, yet it is a feeble, superficial thing. All day and night, he frolics with life’s walking shadow.
All day and night, his deep calls to deep.
One night, a star shined in the east. Its light shines through his veins. Flowing, pumping through his blood with static sensation.
His head rises.
Yet he will not be moved. He refuses two.
Because, beyond the blanket of sky and expanse of space, stars don't exist.
And even if they do exist, they are far beyond grasp, and do nothing but light up the sky.
It is not the saddest sentiment that he is still standing, it is because he has forgotten why.
He will not be moved, he is waiting for the moon to show her face.
Some days, he falls on her silky white bliss. Her beams of light, like whispers in the dark.
She takes him in with open beams of content.
At moments he feels his heart is always with her, and could never have room for another.
Yet it is not home. She resides within darkness, she holds no real light.
Pale were the sweet lips he saw,
Pale were the lips he kiss’d, and fair the form.
He is sick to death. Nothing comes.
By the rule set in ancient time by the city, equal blood must be spilt for the man on the mountain to be moved.
The Joy of Heaven and Hell, bled to death to capture the man.
Yet he would not be shaken.
He is sick to death.
For hope cringes and the shadows dance around the inferno of his heart claiming it a malleable ingredient.
In a moment. Just a moment.
He breathed in.
Nothing happened.
In a moment. Just a moment. He felt his heat thump in his chest, and the sun rose in the east lighting the world with such a glorious glare.
He screams within his chains. His chains scream at the brightest of all stars.
He turns to see the sun's face.
And then fixes his gaze, as it lights up the city with such brilliance.
Breathing in, the sun with such gluttony, he is free.
Elation beyond bliss.
And his chains fell, not broken, yet severed none the less.
The sun was what he was waiting for. Rising up, it makes all things new.
Bringing more than breath to his bones.
It brings warmth.
The city in its majesty, opens its sore eyes at the rising of the sun.
Now, sunlight burns inside.
No tongue describes the yearning he feels when he steps forward.
New lungs give him life. Breathing joy into his foundations.
Time, possessive of the mountain, gave up it's hold. And the mountain grew once again.
Emerald stone and crystal Petra lift the man high above the city of light, death and dreams.
Piercing cloud, his voice shakes the world around him once again.
The sun, behind his back., singing a thousand symphonies that bind his chains to the face of the mountain, they burn life back into his body.
He sings along, the melodies of the song.
'Light in the light. Light in the dark'
Fresh words roll of his lips.
Now chaos, light and shade of the city unfolds in it’s primal tornado. And the stars fall at his command.
Like rain.
Like rain that fly upon the winds of his command.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
light in the light. Light in the dark.
Dream that the sky stares back the night is not so black. In the town where black is grey and blue is pink. The light closes what the darkness reveals. I have been here for so long. Look at this demon I fight. I'm going to hang my heart on your hope.
When you look at the sky,
he stares back.
Holds the stars on his finger tips.
At the top of their lungs they scream.
Cast your pain on the stars.
Vast measure, deep calls to deep.
Dear night sky, take my being.
Make it more.
I've been staring at you shine, being blind.
I'll find a home among the stars.
Within your hands.
This is home.
This is surely home.
Shine on me. Shine through me.
I’ve been to the gate where all suspicion needs abandon.
Where the fruit loses its taste and every thing reeks of it.
The city and it's melancholy throng looks for escape,
Yet I hold you within my heart,
Your stars pump through my veins.
Deep calls to deep.
Dear night sky ,I’ve been staring at you, being blind.
One day, this day, I'm going to swing on your star.
In the shadows, yet your never far.
The city of light death and dreams.
(Naga I Sol Tace Sadow.)
The man on the mountain.
There has been a millennia of darkness, light still exists it is just there upon convenience to promote life.
The man who will not be moved stares at the sky. He has long forgotten that it stares back.
Incessantly searching, yet moving would mean his centre of gravity would be compromised.
He will not permit that.
Caught on the mountain, he finds him self above the clouds and the earth. His eyes hold all.
His eyes are always open, shutting them would mean the thickening darkness that never forgets it's self.
His feet are strong as thousand chains tie him secure to the face of the lonely mountain. The man stands composed. Eyes of steel, arms at their sides, no wind, sun, heat, cold, will move him.
For a thousand years all the armada of Hell, all the legions of Heaven would not move him.
No sweet melody dances off his tongue.
His steady breath, methodical.
The city of light death and dreams below, listens when his voice shakes the sky.
“I will not be moved.”
For a thousand years, no wind, rain, hail, axe, burning fire or sword would move him.
The mountain became tired and was stolen once again by time.
The mountain sank away beneath the earth. Yet the man stood still, his foundation removed.
His soul was slain. Nothing held him up above the city of light death and dreams.
He screams and shakes within his chains.
Yet he continues to stand still, composed.
The darkness in his heart binds him to abyss where the mountain was established.
He reaches inside the silence. He suffers. The song within him vanished. The cold winds gnash it’s teeth , and despair rains. All day and night he looks within to find strength, for strength abides within his bones, yet it is a feeble, superficial thing. All day and night, he frolics with life’s walking shadow.
All day and night, his deep calls to deep.
One night, a star shined in the east. Its light shines through his veins. Flowing, pumping through his blood with static sensation.
His head rises.
Yet he will not be moved. He refuses two.
Because, beyond the blanket of sky and expanse of space, stars don't exist.
And even if they do exist, they are far beyond grasp, and do nothing but light up the sky.
It is not the saddest sentiment that he is still standing, it is because he has forgotten why.
He will not be moved, he is waiting for the moon to show her face.
Some days, he falls on her silky white bliss. Her beams of light, like whispers in the dark.
She takes him in with open beams of content.
At moments he feels his heart is always with her, and could never have room for another.
Yet it is not home. She resides within darkness, she holds no real light.
Pale were the sweet lips he saw,
Pale were the lips he kiss’d, and fair the form.
He is sick to death. Nothing comes.
By the rule set in ancient time by the city, equal blood must be spilt for the man on the mountain to be moved.
The Joy of Heaven and Hell, bled to death to capture the man.
Yet he would not be shaken.
He is sick to death.
For hope cringes and the shadows dance around the inferno of his heart claiming it a malleable ingredient.
In a moment. Just a moment.
He breathed in.
Nothing happened.
In a moment. Just a moment. He felt his heat thump in his chest, and the sun rose in the east lighting the world with such a glorious glare.
He screams within his chains. His chains scream at the brightest of all stars.
He turns to see the sun's face.
And then fixes his gaze, as it lights up the city with such brilliance.
Breathing in, the sun with such gluttony, he is free.
Elation beyond bliss.
And his chains fell, not broken, yet severed none the less.
The sun was what he was waiting for. Rising up, it makes all things new.
Bringing more than breath to his bones.
It brings warmth.
The city in its majesty, opens its sore eyes at the rising of the sun.
Now, sunlight burns inside.
No tongue describes the yearning he feels when he steps forward.
New lungs give him life. Breathing joy into his foundations.
Time, possessive of the mountain, gave up it's hold. And the mountain grew once again.
Emerald stone and crystal Petra lift the man high above the city of light, death and dreams.
Piercing cloud, his voice shakes the world around him once again.
The sun, behind his back., singing a thousand symphonies that bind his chains to the face of the mountain, they burn life back into his body.
He sings along, the melodies of the song.
'Light in the light. Light in the dark'
Fresh words roll of his lips.
Now chaos, light and shade of the city unfolds in it’s primal tornado. And the stars fall at his command.
Like rain.
Like rain that fly upon the winds of his command.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
light in the light. Light in the dark.
Dream that the sky stares back the night is not so black. In the town where black is grey and blue is pink. The light closes what the darkness reveals. I have been here for so long. Look at this demon I fight. I'm going to hang my heart on your hope.
When you look at the sky,
he stares back.
Holds the stars on his finger tips.
At the top of their lungs they scream.
Cast your pain on the stars.
Vast measure, deep calls to deep.
Dear night sky, take my being.
Make it more.
I've been staring at you shine, being blind.
I'll find a home among the stars.
Within your hands.
This is home.
This is surely home.
Shine on me. Shine through me.
I’ve been to the gate where all suspicion needs abandon.
Where the fruit loses its taste and every thing reeks of it.
The city and it's melancholy throng looks for escape,
Yet I hold you within my heart,
Your stars pump through my veins.
Deep calls to deep.
Dear night sky ,I’ve been staring at you, being blind.
One day, this day, I'm going to swing on your star.
In the shadows, yet your never far.
