The Masks

Four masks interlocked in dreadful stare

Observation changing all before

Entangled weave of gazes entwined

To make all, that once was not,

Now there


Four masks caged in pained haunt

To build, To burn, To act, To plan

A raging storm with no end or halt

The vortex spiral of dreamland


Four masks making haste to plan all fate

Fighting for a secure place in the abyss

Longing to fill a thirst they cannot sate

Creating chaos in darkened mist

Saturday, April 3, 2010

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Coral’s death was critical to the fragile society on many levels. She meant so many things to so may different levels. The art of her dying was no different.
The Eoti had been methodically called, summoned one be one they entered her anter room. Her death chamber became rather crowded as if is it was a freakish event to be gawked at at some horror show.
Finally Syrka arrived and cleared the death chamber of the dross that had no business among the dead and dying. He spoke to the loudly and in a more anctient term.
“Elo thaboiuc Ta Ni”
After he spoke there words , as if a heavy curse filled the room all but The Eoti remained to to carry Coral through the Death March.

(Enter Death March Here)

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