paracosm Страница 26

You know what, Sure? I think witches were fine.
Guess they were fine fellows - generous and honoured even, moreover - so righteous and moral, that anyone else compared would seem a desperate sinner; btw, that is the main difference between witches and saints: the last felt like black wrongdoers while witches considered the world to be so wallowed in peccancy that the only way left was to destroy it. They knew it - and they were right - that the whole world with all the human power, the laws, fashion and love, all of it somehow outflaws, lapsing; that is why they always denied them belonging to the human race in desperate disgust, aversion and horror.
They started their path craving the skies but ended with falling into devil's grip, and then eternity, thus this is what always does happen when you want to reach the God by all means of detour
Alas, not everyone is blessed to overcome the hate for this world.

"Воистину у них мечтательной фантазии больше, чем у нас!
Мыслят устроиться справедливо, но, отвергнув Христа, кончат тем, что зальют мир кровью, ибо кровь зовет кровь, и извлекший меч погибнет от меча, и если бы не обетование Христово, то так и истребляли бы друг друга, даже до последних двух человек на Земле"
Достоевский

Little Red-Cap

At childhood’s end, the houses petered out
into playing fields, the factory, allotments
kept, like mistresses, by kneeling married men,
the silent railway line, the hermit’s caravan,
till you came at last to the edge of the woods.
It was there that I first clapped eyes on the wolf.

He stood in a clearing, reading his verse out loud
in his wolfy drawl, a paperback in his hairy paw,
red wine staining his bearded jaw. What big ears
he had! What big eyes he had! What teeth!
In the interval, I made quite sure he spotted me,
sweet sixteen, never been, babe, waif, and bought me a drink,

my first. You might ask why. Here’s why. Poetry.
The wolf, I knew, would lead me deep into the woods,
away from home, to a dark tangled thorny place
lit by the eyes of owls. I crawled in his wake,
my stockings ripped to shreds, scraps of red from my blazer
snagged on twig and branch, murder clues. I lost both shoes

but got there, wolf’s lair, better beware. Lesson one that night,
breath of the wolf in my ear, was the love poem.
I clung till dawn to his thrashing :bip:, for
what little girl doesn’t dearly love a wolf?1
Then I slid from between his heavy matted paws
and went in search of a living bird – white dove –

which flew, straight, from my hands to his hope mouth.
One bite, dead. How nice, breakfast in bed, he said,
licking his chops. As soon as he slept, I crept to the back
of the lair, where a whole wall was crimson, gold, aglow with books.
Words, words were truly alive on the tongue, in the head,
warm, beating, frantic, winged; music and blood.

But then I was young – and it took ten years
in the woods to tell that a mushroom
stoppers the mouth of a buried corpse, that birds
are the uttered thought of trees, that a greying wolf
howls the same old song at the moon, year in, year out,
season after season, same rhyme, same reason. I took an axe

to a willow to see how it wept. I took an axe to a salmon
to see how it leapt. I took an axe to the wolf
as he slept, one chop, scrotum to throat, and saw
the glistening, virgin white of my grandmother’s bones.
I filled his old belly with stones. I stitched him up.
Out of the forest I come with my flowers, singing, all alone.

Carol Ann Duffy 1999

Chatta_Gris wrote:dance with me the gallowdance, for all the degradation in this land

жители зазеркалья слетают с катушек три раза за день, а то и чаще.
убивают себя по еженедельным февралям.
а всё потому что Алисы нет.

моря сон wrote:и верхний пост твой об этом

вообще всё об этом последнии тысячи лет/девять ночей

я просто провела параллели
между кем и кем, догадаться несложно :3

Until „They started their path... „ i do agree. Guess that's are the „dark“ ones. I know, it's dumb to say it this way, but if we talk about it such dividing seems neccessary. You know, this human language lost the unity too, so polarity and sex are everywhere.
Maybe those girls lost/did't even found the „light“. (see, again such a word =__=)
angels and fallen angels are different in expression, but it's all the same birdy stuff.
And there is mindbreaking multiplicity, too.
So it may be the same with the witches. First born to protect and love (lol, u see, how even this text is like veins? From the main aorta to the smallest cappillars. And veins are like trees. And skeletton too, somehow. Aaaand, don't forget the fractals. Now you see, why i often simply can't decide to what i should reply first xD)
everything is like the snake on your amazing bar (it's soooo fine!)
they are endless variations/combinations
true words you say, dear. And dyadya Fjödor also did, in his world, in his way.
e.g. there are tons of versions of „Alice“
(maybe it's even an archetype ++, dunno by the moment if a separate one, or how)
there's an Alice of the „black black heart“
an Alice, who became the little red riding hood.
And one, who became the wolf.
And a werewolved one.
And a revolved one, too.
Another became a „black“ witch.
Another one went to OZ, next became a mermaid, next rocked hollywood, next tried being a knight, next was Gerda, another one the Schneekönigin, others were princes and foxes. Another one went mad. Endless story in over 1000001 nights, an eternity long.
There's a poem about the Alices, who came one after another to try being Queen, you know it? (can't remember, found it in your cabinet, or not.)

Chatta_Gris wrote:
у них там в зазеркалье?
актриса не находит Перона, только и всего

Алиса своего Шляпных дел мастера в данном случае. какой там пейринг? &_&

Чья реакция на что эта усталая писд оф девочка? Хд

ага. Там. Хотя вопрос ещё тот, по какую сторону зеркал лежит Зазеркалье.
Верхнее словоблудие выяснило, что с новыми Алисами множатся и Зазеркалья. Или не множатся х,х“
если верить греческому космосу, то „фсёфпарядке“.
наверное тут тоже на вкус. Или нет. Или матрица. И и или, кароч.
Дьявол. Ты тоже переставляешь стрелки на шестёрку xD
тогда все сюжеты держатся испокона веков на этом всепропитывающим дуете?
И когда они оба достигнут aurum portable воскреснет вновь нашедший себя неделимый?
А дальше? Новый виток? Или же эта космическая сказка закончится? Никогда?