The Dark Verse

To what ends do you know?

Excerpt:

I walked through the truculent sands for many days without end. Their color glistened and appeared to shine brighter with each new dawning of the sun—a sun that radiated and shown power beyond the means of natural, un-orchestrated things. I could feel the sun’s reach and be witness to its breadth. The sky was either a pearly hue of blue that mixed and submitted to the distant horizons in a lackluster surrender or a faded negativity of gray, humming illusions through the paleness of the moon. Of any movement other than my own, there was none.

While traveling, I tried to recall how my presence had come to reside in the cradle of desolation. I thought back upon those memories that marked the birth of my waywardness, but I could not find anything defining before that moment I first started out upon the truculent sands. It not only was my first memory of the desert; it was—as I searched desperately through my mind—the first crisp and clear memory of my life. Only jumbled glimpses and sensations of interaction meshed in-between the stored images of sand, sky, and sun; they were like indistinguishable residues. Besides these, there was only emptiness. Of my name, my acquaintances, and my experiences, there was nothing to be found. This frustrated me, and pushed me more fiercely through my steps.

 22: Finding The Host That Sustains [13:51m]: Download

Make the sacrifice.

Excerpt:

The creations of the artisan were always magnificent. Every detail, contour, and finish orchestrated a perfection of visual embrace. The way his completed works mesmerized the most critical of art and the most cynical of achievement proved his worthiness to all who might own—or if but see—a piece of his allotted mastery. Even in touch, his work marveled no less; a blind man would have been amazed. The work that came from his hands was embodied by nothing less than a craftsmanship inspired by the heavens. What a gift he had, and he did not spoil it.

There were many different mediums for the artisan’s work, but there was one he greatly preferred. He used wood, marble, and clay, but his favorite, and domineering preference, was bone. Its rigid, unique, and lifelike form allowed accomplishments unlike anything that could have been imagined. With grooves and notches, he connected them into powerful displays of entity, which he then manipulated into strange figures and beasts ranging from short heights to towering presences. It was as if the ability given to him was for something much greater than art. Yes, it was art, but it was also architecture and science and innate, unnatural understanding.

 21: Names: Feltfoldhart [15:02m]: Download

Intro song for the Names series.

 All Are Called (Names Intro) [1:16m]: Download