An Apodictic Chthonian Gnosis
A fulminating phantasm, a chimerical design,
The apodictic logic that we claim as wholly mine.
A synchronic confluence, a prolegomenon to dread,
The hermetic whispers of the numina we've bred.
From the tenebrous abyss, a telluric echo rings,
A susurrus of chaos, the farrago that it brings.
The haptic anagnorisis, the noetic touch of fate,
A catachresis of the spirit that arrives a moment late.
The atavistic clamor, a primeval, mordant plea,
The metempsychotic journey of a soul that seeks to be.
A serendipitous nexus, a liminal, fraught domain,
A palimpsestic trauma, a sempiternal pain.
The solipsistic fortress, a bastion made of lies,
Is breached by ululating winds, beneath the sepia skies.
The antinomian impulse, the gnostic, hidden key,
Unlocks the chthonian silence for all the world to see.
A peripatetic shadow, a spectral peregrine,
Traverses hypnagogic mists, a phantasmagoric scene.
The plangent, ululating moan, a dirge of mordant fear,
Is the sole and mordant cipher for the truths we hold so dear.
The obfuscating verbiage, the grandiloquent display,
Is but a soporific balm to chase the dread away.
The aporetic questioning, a futile, long refrain,
Is the eschatological ending of the mind's incessant pain.
The profligacy of spirit, the plethora of thought,
Is the final, fulgent, apotheosis we have bought.
The crepuscular dominion, a kingdom of the blind,
Is the ultimate oblivion that we perpetually find.
The epigonous echoes, the last and futile cry,
A mnemophobiac’s lament beneath a starless sky.
This anodyne illusion, a somnolent report,
Is the quiddity of being that we desperately court.
In the spirit of continuing the poem with powerful, long, and difficult words, this third section extends the theme into the realm of metaphysical decay, cosmic indifference, and the ultimate entropic fate of all things.
The Entropic Entelechy
The telos of our sentience, a fulgurous design,
Is a cataclysmic entropy, a serpentine decline.
From the empyrean apex, the apotheosis falls,
As an ineluctable silence subsumes the hallowed halls.
The noetic apprehension, a gossamer-thin thread,
Is unraveled by the phantoms of all the past has bred.
A grandiloquent verbiage, an oratorical haze,
Obfuscates the aporetic ends of our contiguous days.
A palimpsestic strata, a stratagem of dust,
The chrestomathy of living, a mnemophobiac trust.
The autochthonous fervor, a primogenial fire,
Succumbs to the insouciance of a cosmic, deadened pyre.
The plangent, ululating dirges, the metempsychotic score,
Are mere cacophonous prefaces to what has come before.
The eschatological summons, the final, dread assay,
Is a metonymic silence, a somniferous delay.
The antinomian fissures, the fissiparous decay,
Are the crepuscular delusions that we herald and obey.
The apodictic chthonian wisdom, the unshakeable truth,
Is a mere prolegomenon for a world without its youth.
The peripatetic wanderers, the flotsam of the mind,
Are the hermeneutical whispers of a truth we left behind.
In this hypnagogic cosmos, this tenebrous array,
Our fervent, brief existence is but an ephemeral display.
So let the congeries of moments, the profligacy of years,
Become a sere and fractious thing, dispelling all our fears.
For in the inchoate vastness, the numinous design,
Our purpose is an absence, our final truth divine.
A solipsistic journey, a peregrine’s last flight,
Into the ululating silence of an everlasting night.
This is the entropic teleology, the final, fated sum,
A world in which the cacophony has finally, finally become numb.
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