X.The Dessication of the Sapphire Capital.
XI. The Inner Sanctum of the Mnemic Vaults
He flees the wreckage of his outer state,To seek sanctuary in the deep mind,Behind a heavy, adamantine gate,Where remnants of his genesis are shrined.This is the repository of the "Was"—A library of sensory excess,Free from the jurisdiction of the lawsThat govern the encroaching nothingness.Here, jars of preserved sunlight line the shelf,And perfumes of forgotten lilac-bloomsAllow the King to recollect himselfWithin the safety of these quiet rooms.He hides amidst the syntax of his past,Hoping the architecture there will last.
XII. The Syllogism of the Severed Soul
But even here, the shadow finds a vent,A linguistic leak within the memory-well;The King’s own definitions are now rentBy the Antagonist’s corrosive spell."If I am light," the Gilded Autarch sighs,"And light is but the absence of the dark,Then in my core a hidden shadow lies,A cold, negated, and essential spark."The paradox begins to liquefyThe very floor on which the Monarch stands;He watches his own history pass by,As shifting, uninterpretable sands.To save the self, he must redefine the whole,And forge a new, trans-lexicalized soul.
Now we follow the King into the "Grey Limbo" to seek a third way, or watch the Shadow-Wraith begin the final deconstruction of time itself.
No comments:
Post a Comment