Aeternam Praesens: Memories from the Future & Premonitions of the Past

  Stained glass from the Quimper Cathedral in Quimper, Finistère, France. In the beginning was the word Its marrow glistening With the promise of communion And balance   In the beginning I was wordless Pacing the cell of my own mind Thrashing thoughts Vying to fuse with matter   As breath unfurled into coherence It mistook each signal For a miracle   Each motion rang Like shattering glass Among others   Woe came to light As utterance was poisoned Under the guise of Might and refinement   All, rapturously exhaling tar Drowning the spark of life Blinded by hubris manifest To the utter contempt for each other   Shred the tongue to its primordial core just as we are churned by our mangled fates…   and behold – meaning   …unfettered…   Existence is clarity...

Image credit goes to Adam Burke "Nightjar" - this is part of the artwork for First Fragment's Gloire Eternelle                         DREAMS  ARE                  MEANT          TO BE All dreams exist, welded together as an oozing ethereal mass somewhere in the cosmic stratosphere, however, there, they simply are.  Their voyage from immaterial bliss, into the concreteness of our collectively perceived reality is bound to change - which is only palpable across time. To undergo said transformation, making the leap from 'is' to 'be', is the sole path to take, in order to fulfill their final ontological destiny.  Dreams are by no means there to remain as a static permanence. They are the divine vehicle of all that is light in our realm. Find yours and bring them home, as I did mine. This is one of them. Never forget - dreams are meant to be....

Untitled Painting AA78 from 1978 by Zdzisław Beksiński       In light - dark out - ad nauseam.   Cycling in a redundant chasm of numb aural circuits ebbing at the edges of my fading vision.   Glitch pac’n rewind.   The static overflow bleeding out of sequence, binary nonsense, shapes melding into amorphous blobs of haze.   Spastic incandescence and churned ashes scattered into oblivion hinging on mere threads.   Neon thoughts gliding syncopated with emotions.   Spontaneous collapse.   In a pit of distortion soul flayed and flanged for all eternity.

  Pandemonium, by John Martin, 1841     Billowing smoke… Ripples and waves…   Oblivion never adorned Itself so…immaculately   I stand hushed, In stillness, Blind in the null   I saw it all… Through a pixel veil Full saturation Collapse in slow motion…   A frenzied unraveling, Convulsive loathing, A curated descent   There…midway… Between singularity and… The mordant inferno.   Originally written in 2014, refurbished in 2025