19.06.07 | David Kartaš, @, další tvorba | 3402 x | vypínač
The comming of the Hierophant
I,who is the Unmentionable,sit at the window.As the winged servants fly
through each of the 999 rooms,I realise,painfully slowly,what
does come to pass.
The Hierophant does come.Yet should we welcome him?Already he presses his
thousand hands upon the gate in the form of a tear ,already his fangs sink and
rip apart the yellow velvet skin,that nature furnished the earth with,upon the
end of winters death.Already,he screams out in baryton:“Die nacht is stil,warum
wollen sie keine?“This all is pleasing,but………should we let him in?
I rise,y et one of my legs rips from my socket and refuses to
stand.I hop on one foot,yet one of my arms comes off and blocks my
passage,holding itself upon the golden stomach of my ancestor,the Wise-Man of
Duseldorf, the pious monk ,who never broke the celibacy and holds with all its
strength upon this organ.Yet my Will is Ultimate and so I unite my forces
and pull and pull,till at last my hand rips off.I move forward in
delight,yet forgeting that I have but one leg,I try to step with the
false one,fall down and break it.And although the bone is piercing through the
flesh,I feel no pain,sadly.I bend forward,lick the few drops of blood
that stil lingered in my veins before this extempóre and
rise,clumsily,looking around the walls,upon witch a million hatchets are
placed at strange intervals ,at wild distances,rising within this circular hall
so high that they blend into nothingnes within the topmost circle,from witch,it
is said,fly the radiations of Gods will and,passing through our home,spread into
the entiere universe.I find one and chop and chop and then I go
farward,crawling with the aid of a signle hand.Finaly,I reach the door,but
allas,I forgot the hatchet and found it my heart-my chest and trunk are
useless.I dispatch my head and throw it to the door and,using my
tongue,I open the door and fall the the ground.I use my eybrows to
turn round and great the host,who picks me up and says:“Unser wirst du sein!“,
replacing his head with mine as a sign of friendship.The boar-head rests as we
pass into the study,complimenting each others good looks.
horror pocit sobota svoboda osud vyznání naděje fantasy poezie cesta touha horor les sex zima povídka noc zklamání vzpomínka erotika * marnost emoce antilistí realita život ... .. láska krev x beznaděj jen tak čas bolest deprese pocity aa hrůza srdce mládí . tma podzim strach smutek přetvářka haiku vztah smrt voľný verš samota humor příroda město zoufalství temnota momentka žena vztahy nenávist sen
Nokturno je místem pro všechny milovníky fantasie, dobrého počtení a rozumné rozpravy.
©1999-2025 Skaven
komentářů: 14778
článků: 557
obrázků: 3653
dílek: 6474
autorů: 867