it's_just_too_much_anymore oldephebe -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- you pray and ask for death..you want it to rain black and hard upon your world only you didn't expect it to wear such a lovely face, or have such an incredible soul betrothed to god, betrothed to bishops and kings and sweeps up an entire village of children into her ocean expanse, her heart so full and so empty and so giving and nurturing to every child...but still betrothed to bishops and kings and dingdoms beyond the pale and rach of my fractured littel life...this is what i believe..she is so far beyond me and above me and i would not dar poison her world with the taint of my shadow upon it..stay in the light..stay..in what feeds you stay in what must be honored by god and man.. it's just too much anymore..damn..i have wept over these things..how did i get here..what fragment of light..of super heated..damn i mean what are the rhetorical implications of all this allegorical abstract apology or apologia. i am sorry and i do not yet know for what? i mean you step out you stumble out bent and goofy and aloof and you are slowly struck by thunder and this ember, this shade or color or diffraction of burning light and you see it cast from her eyes and poured from her soul and how do you say these windows were all but blackened and nearly seladed shut..what did you do? do not throw your heart into any songs for me for you will only wind up loving what has been dead, what is dead and only resuscitated recently for one purpose..i believe and that would be to serve the cause of bishops and kings and minister to the greater good. damn this is going to kill me..i didn't want anything to touch me..they think its arrogance or being dismissive but it's not..maybe..maybe..i'm just trying not to get in the way..trying not to screw up somebodyies perfect life..trying not to disrespect the province of that bishop and kingdom he's trying to build..one kingdom, one queen, one light and one sight, one sun in her sky, in his sky and one lord to honor above and beneath it..so that leaves me ...nothing... as it should. and you say..i was just wandering along back into life..roused from my death bed, i escaped the silver scythe glittering and grinning at my elbow and in my ear..you must not be fond of shadow..of thinly breathing life..what you see as arrogance or dismissiveness or even as the coals of anger quickly roused to flame, to life, the tears of grief quickly built to sorrows burning current..is just that there is just so much death..so much of me falling down fast inside and there is another..mother and mistrees and architect of my pain and torment..al ost like some gothic fantasy stepping out of a portrait and here upon this canvas that muse..for that is what stoked these..oh god i just wnat to say wash your eyes and rise from that river of sorrow and turn away from me you equisitly broken flower or DON"T ever turn the light of your heart upon me..stay were you are..for where i am i wouldn't wish for you. every breath i take is beating me down.. as for my muse, my bruising burning muse, well, THAT is a wholly separate thing - i am a relic of a rotted life come wandering in from the cold white mountains blanketed in the silver knife of winter. that's it so any pretensions of greatness or talent or calling or anything else is..laughable - ... by the way the site is back up - please go to theautumnfirecdproject.com/index.html i'll have to put more music up there though...it kinda crashed... ... 051222 ... oldephebe and this is the light of knowledge that pierced the black windows shuttered against the world...my windows, her world of light, her something somehow holy pierced the black windows of my soul, it was never her fault, if you read this know that it was never any of it was never her fault not one bit - i reached not knowing how or even why or what i was doing i reached for something holy and none of it was ever her fault, i'm so good at hiding behind a facade of dismissivenes, of aloofness - i protect myself and i tried to protect myself but somthing broke through..i have to say this..she shouted her soul, herself inside my soul, her pain her anguish..she shouted part of her soul inside of my..because trying to get my attention can be like talking to the dead, in November darkness as the wind carries grifs riot off and around the buffeted stones, her voice any voice can be lost in all that...the dark and turbulence..the austic prophylactic that covers my soul..so uncertain and quietly awed and uncertain and just to take a few steps to discover, the mystery of this strange beacon..but not really strange just..what is it and why does it touch me like glory from heaven..what IS THIS.. what is this? they say that we should seek the lord in his temple..but what if when you go there all you see and feel and hear is - i just can't say it or write it - but it was NEVER her fault and she did NOTHING..just "Hi" and "BYE" and yet somehow with just that some nexus was created or barrier breached but it was never HER doing..it was my foolish ephebic stumbling around in the blinding white light of a beacon of a glory that she did not even mean to cast..there is nothing in the selfish heart of man, nothing in that, nothing that can be rescued and saved by and or in the heart that lives for just itself, seeking it's own respite, rescue and release..so how do i honor and serve what is holy if i am scorched every time i touch it or see it. To be damned by Light, to be driven back down into shadow by such glory it is almost too much too bear. You look, you listen and you sense the bruises and welts upon a womans soul, and there's nothing you can DO but honor her holy mission and her devotion to that royal band of gold and you know somehow secetly that your presence has magnified her pain, it has exacerbated the rift in her spirit, from those things that were once and still are the promise and pillars of her life. I need something to devote myself to, something holy and honorable and pure..but at what cost does one stand in the tide of love to be gouged by the armada or scorpions beneath its wake. The tide of love is a torrent of pain. Black rain coming down in this heart. Upon this precipice that longs to or that has suckled deeptly from the valley of insuperable darkness, i mean my lips are a jagged cliff wed to woe, wed to misery wed to folly and frailty and darkness and violent currents and near catatonic melancholy - the cliff that kisses rapturously the music of the falling blade, the dopplering of a body screaming into darkness to be battered on the jutting stones and finally crushed, bludgeoned as bone and blood erupt from his carcass in one glorious and yet inevitable but not final death, this life, this body this soul has been broken so fucking many times and i just can't bear it again..do not whatever you do build a hope and a promise upon such uncertain ground, to preserve and restore a life and the brood of dreams from thier dreambed still being born and torn from the glory in the glory of her countenance. How could you preserve and rescue so full of promise and so vital to so many people and even yet countless unborn lives..how could you preserve it upon a brittle crystal kingdom, a spire made of the ghost of a man who never lived..truly - i am the ghost of a man that never truly lived, i lived briefly..oh so very briefly and then the next 23 years were just touching the womens lives i encountered with the ghost light of that once magical time and the slow locust propogating inevitability of my shadow--but more than just that..one that permeates every glorious thing it touches..soooo.. damn..just take deep breaths, deep holy breaths from beneath your belly..don't force it..don't feel it in your throat and let your truly beautiful voice sing out and set it free - for it IS a truly beautiful voice..you just don't know and people, everyone will know how beautiful it truly is once they hear it..the loudest voice is NOT always the prettiest voice or the BEST voice. What can i say? The bishop and his queen will be fine, will boldy grow an ecclesiastical empire like that community hath never seen. I should be broken - i understand now why the desire for my obliteration and my salvation..but the bishop is better served in just building his kingdom and tending to the holy shrine of his devotion, his anchor his inspiration, his light, the one part of him more precious than any possesion or any blessing or any in born born and that is union and life with something that is seared and joined by a band of gold, brought together by the Providense of Heaven and no dim accident of broken steps stumbling down polished stone blinded by his own handwriting, his own hearts confused fury and thunder and blinding fall only to shatter upon itself - eyah..the selfish heart, yeah the selfish heart of man that lives unto itself..but my heart it must not live unto itself - and then again it must live ONLY unto itself - this wandering ghost - so god is opening the door, but not neccessarily for me - so my bishop, and his queen you must build your kingdoms and empires and minister mightily and have lives seared by the promise of a united will, do you understand? Yes I believe you do in ways far ddeper and clearer than I do. It unseemly perhaps these things i write, but damnnit my tongue will never ever bodly screech aginst the glass, or the night or the imaculate glass of your ear ad heart to speak them. I write because i cannot speak, for to speak would open an unbidden torrent. So place your banner high upon a hill and i will see it. When your ministry grows to fulfill the limitless and infinite promise of the synergy of your two gifts..god wait there are so many gifts that the two of you posses and you will no doubt continue to draw the gifted and promised to your wake, to god holy wake and set down anchor and build something that the devil will NOT be able to shake nor less even destroy. So put your banner high upon a hill, i'll see and i will know an i will thak god for the two of you and for the mighty things, the wonderful things that you continue to achieve. You may see me but please do NOT, I just want to get out of the way and LET GOD BE. That's what will ultimately rescue me. In my spirit I've read the prophetic scrolls, and without words an uproar invaded my heart, and white noise rushed into my ears and my eyes were clouded but..I relinquish ALL of the suffering ALL of that, i fold it into my cathedral of soul and spirit and offer it as a sacrifice for my souls salvation and maybe participation in some humble way, may i - i believe i am truly begginning to understand the true spirit of humility in a way that i never have before..gone is the chaffing of spirit that at times inevitably accompanied my acts of abject self sacrifice..But how can they be abject or selfless if the chaffing is encountered? that, and bow before the presence of The King od Kings, and under God's anointed. That's all. It's no bruise or no wound. It doesn't cost me anything. It just brings me closer to God. ... 051223 ... oldephebe and this is the light of knowledge that pierced the black windows shuttered against the world...my windows, her world of light, her something somehow holy pierced the black windows of my soul, it was never her fault, if you read this know that it was never any of it was never her fault not one bit - i reached not knowing how or even why or what i was doing i reached for something holy and none of it was ever her fault, i'm so good at hiding behind a facade of dismissivenes, of aloofness - i protect myself and i tried to protect myself but somthing broke through..i have to say this..she shouted her soul, herself inside my soul, her pain her anguish..she shouted part of her soul inside of my..because trying to get my attention can be like talking to the dead, in November darkness as the wind carries grifs riot off and around the buffeted stones, her voice any voice can be lost in all that...the dark and turbulence..the austic prophylactic that covers my soul..so uncertain and quietly awed and uncertain and just to take a few steps to discover, the mystery of this strange beacon..but not really strange just..what is it and why does it touch me like glory from heaven..what IS THIS.. what is this? they say that we should seek the lord in his temple..but what if when you go there all you see and feel and hear is - i just can't say it or write it - but it was NEVER her fault and she did NOTHING..just "Hi" and "BYE" and yet somehow with just that some nexus was created or barrier breached but it was never HER doing..it was my foolish ephebic stumbling around in the blinding white light of a beacon of a glory that she did not even mean to cast..there is nothing in the selfish heart of man, nothing in that, nothing that can be rescued and saved by and or in the heart that lives for just itself, seeking it's own respite, rescue and release..so how do i honor and serve what is holy if i am scorched every time i touch it or see it. To be damned by Light, to be driven back down into shadow by such glory it is almost too much too bear. You look, you listen and you sense the bruises and welts upon a womans soul, and there's nothing you can DO but honor her holy mission and her devotion to that royal band of gold and you know somehow secetly that your presence has magnified her pain, it has exacerbated the rift in her spirit, from those things that were once and still are the promise and pillars of her life. I need something to devote myself to, something holy and honorable and pure..but at what cost does one stand in the tide of love to be gouged by the armada or scorpions beneath its wake. The tide of love is a torrent of pain. Black rain coming down in this heart. Upon this precipice that longs to or that has suckled deeptly from the valley of insuperable darkness, i mean my lips are a jagged cliff wed to woe, wed to misery wed to folly and frailty and darkness and violent currents and near catatonic melancholy - the cliff that kisses rapturously the music of the falling blade, the dopplering of a body screaming into darkness to be battered on the jutting stones and finally crushed, bludgeoned as bone and blood erupt from his carcass in one glorious and yet inevitable but not final death, this life, this body this soul has been broken so fucking many times and i just can't bear it again..do not whatever you do build a hope and a promise upon such uncertain ground, to preserve and restore a life and the brood of dreams from thier dreambed still being born and torn from the glory in the glory of her countenance. How could you preserve and rescue so full of promise and so vital to so many people and even yet countless unborn lives..how could you preserve it upon a brittle crystal kingdom, a spire made of the ghost of a man who never lived..truly - i am the ghost of a man that never truly lived, i lived briefly..oh so very briefly and then the next 23 years were just touching the womens lives i encountered with the ghost light of that once magical time and the slow locust propogating inevitability of my shadow--but more than just that..one that permeates every glorious thing it touches..soooo.. damn..just take deep breaths, deep holy breaths from beneath your belly..don't force it..don't feel it in your throat and let your truly beautiful voice sing out and set it free - for it IS a truly beautiful voice..you just don't know and people, everyone will know how beautiful it truly is once they hear it..the loudest voice is NOT always the prettiest voice or the BEST voice. What can i say? The bishop and his queen will be fine, will boldy grow an ecclesiastical empire like that community hath never seen. I should be broken - i understand now why the desire for my obliteration and my salvation..but the bishop is better served in just building his kingdom and tending to the holy shrine of his devotion, his anchor his inspiration, his light, the one part of him more precious than any possesion or any blessing or any in born born and that is union and life with something that is seared and joined by a band of gold, brought together by the Providense of Heaven and no dim accident of broken steps stumbling down polished stone blinded by his own handwriting, his own hearts confused fury and thunder and blinding fall only to shatter upon itself - eyah..the selfish heart, yeah the selfish heart of man that lives unto itself..but my heart it must not live unto itself - and then again it must live ONLY unto itself - this wandering ghost - so god is opening the door, but not neccessarily for me - so my bishop, and his queen you must build your kingdoms and empires and minister mightily and have lives seared by the promise of a united will, do you understand? Yes I believe you do in ways far ddeper and clearer than I do. It unseemly perhaps these things i write, but damnnit my tongue will never ever bodly screech aginst the glass, or the night or the imaculate glass of your ear ad heart to speak them. I write because i cannot speak, for to speak would open an unbidden torrent. So place your banner high upon a hill and i will see it. When your ministry grows to fulfill the limitless and infinite promise of the synergy of your two gifts..god wait there are so many gifts that the two of you posses and you will no doubt continue to draw the gifted and promised to your wake, to god holy wake and set down anchor and build something that the devil will NOT be able to shake nor less even destroy. So put your banner high upon a hill, i'll see and i will know an i will thak god for the two of you and for the mighty things, the wonderful things that you continue to achieve. You may see me but please do NOT, I just want to get out of the way and LET GOD BE. That's what will ultimately rescue me. In my spirit I've read the prophetic scrolls, and without words an uproar invaded my heart, and white noise rushed into my ears and my eyes were clouded but..I relinquish ALL of the suffering ALL of that, i fold it into my cathedral of soul and spirit and offer it as a sacrifice for my souls salvation and maybe participation in some humble way, may i - i believe i am truly begginning to understand the true spirit of humility in a way that i never have before..gone is the chaffing of spirit that at times inevitably accompanied my acts of abject self sacrifice..But how can they be abject or selfless if the chaffing is encountered? that, and bow before the presence of The King od Kings, and under God's anointed. That's all. It's no bruise or no wound. It doesn't cost me anything. It just brings me closer to God. ... 051223 ... ... and just where and when was that ghost born? see: oldephebe_and_i_just_can't_believe 051223 what's it to you? who go blather from