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Dark waters
I am of the Dark Waters of Ynys Môn and walk paths very few others have found or understand.
I write of the dark visions, of those lingering dreams vaguely remembered, when the soft voice
of it whispers deep within the soul, telling us of those dreams. Dreams that have faded into
the past, to become an intangible memory, yet linger still within the
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shadows of your mind. I breath gently on those dreams and take you down the dark Halls of the deepest night, to walk
amongst mercurial moon light. I ride the maddened storms fury through your wildest dreams and
leave on the gentle breeze of quiet dawn, softly before you awake. Leaving naught but a distant
memory of what once was and a burning desire, a yearning for that dream to be once more. To lift
you up, far above this medioca existence to unparallel heights. Exquisite heights where the mind
does not hold to frail boundaries or transient beauty. Where the velvet darkness wraps its sensuous
fingers around you in tender pain. The burning kiss of forbidden lips, tasting the very essence of
life, sucking it out, licking each naked nerve to fiery acceptance of immortal pleasure, the
purity of corruption and the corruption of purity. Witnessing the terrible creation of being,
where it lies trembling in your hand and gently, oh so gently, gently, squeeze out the blood of it,
drop by precious drop between the fingers, thick and salty, electric to the taste. The dark nectar
of wicked fruits plucked of that damned tree that is now and forever lost. That first irredeemable
step to lie in the warm, milky waters, to wholly embrace the truth of Evil, till the memory of it
be etched for all time upon the retina of humanities eye. Immortal now by name and nature to be
remembered, forever growing in legend to the highest place to glow in the darkness of the mind.
So now do I wrap myself again in darkness till my appointed time. Now on bloodied wings the crows
do fly ... yes with cracked and bitter voices they cry ... He is the One ... and My bloodied tears
fall, fall down through the shadowed ages to splash onto cold iron, fire and salted leather. Now My
Heart and Soul does call to you and I feel the sting of it softly caress you anew, rising up to
heights of dream where you stand naked in My darkness waiting.
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