disc one track seven - 14:45
visual representation with time
writing to sound
There it is again...
That ancient sound, swelling up the night sky. Singing...
It hurts the ears, it resonates, it speaks in different tones...
It speaks all the truth it can at once, and thinks it is alone.
As it glows and spins and rotates... daring across the night.
Lucid and jarring and glassy, and dark
a lower tone, on gravity's tug,
On space, on time, on all things stretched, slowed, and lowered...
That is slowly and painfully unpainful.
A familiar tone, suddenly Mother's breath... a dusty, cloudy place.
A hollow empty place-
torn into a sterile whirling place - where computer noizes breath.
It's fast and all so digital... those little squares, edged into
A led screen performance..
That ancient sound's being torn apart, like Jupiter breaks its
The fragments speak. It cools, is over.
Is dark, Is cold, Is fragile.
Is terribly romantic and frightful.
Whistle blown amidst this mist -
seismic ash scattering its filaments cover the landscape.
And voices... strange nuances from the past, or dreams...
They scatter like rain, and vanish into the present.
Where a motor's too fast and loud, around and around,
in a melodramatic plight... Circling an empty point, with no end
But there are two. And they slow each other... dying out to finally
let silence speak.
A violin bow strikes. Silence is stretching. The mood is seeping.
The lighting changes. The acting still is slowed.
One would think the heavy bombardment is over...
but an object approaches... the vapours rise. Distant objects
respond to it. And we wait.
The sound of the source continues to seduce.
And the thought of martyrdom to nature is so lulling,
it makes one incapable of overcoming the cosmic order...
unless of course we define it. And we ourselves impact.
The morning has finally come.
The sun spreads her wings.
Birds eyes open everywhere.
The grass gets greener every moment.
Insects test their wings.
And the day has come.
The fear is over -
of the night and her sweet seduction.
So dark and delicate and powerful.
The Sirens lure with their lovely song...
That doesn't take long, to take you away.
What's more romantic, realism or artifice?
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