Genesis - The Children's Gospel Music Songbook.

6 : 1-7 And it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them, That the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose. And the Lord said, My spirit shall not always strive with man, for that he also is flesh: yet his days shall be an hundred and twenty years. There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown. And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And it repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart. And the Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth me that I have made them. **WORDS FOUND VIOLENTLY SCRATCHED INTO THE FLOORBOARDS BENEATH THE BLOODSTAINED CARPET OF ROOM 314 {date unknown}** as the infinite library of the universe (life) has grown (evolved) as more books (bodies) of work, containing narrative (epigenetic) sequences have been added to its shelves (worlds) we (as bodies containing stories) have expanded (contracted) outward from the central, circular book (the primal fire about which our ancestors danced) for we were once this central book. This expansion, or descent, from the nexus of infinity, provided a sense of separation from the infinity from which our stories are split, recombined, regenerated this same separation allowed our stories to be read by other stories this self-same separation allowed us to ponder, what quill may have penned each one of ours as we became separate from the god (book) of which we all form a part, we were afforded the ability to read these stories, which themselves became more obfuscated and disordered, like the shuffling of an infinite deck of cards, divining through symbols, becoming iteratively more difficult to decipher falling, rising to entropy, the glyphs on our pages seemed to increase in their disarray and allowed the search, the Zetesis for the central book, our origin, to instigate itself. book after book, we now take down from shelves that we have forgotten were themselves written into existence by the First Story, in the first book, which has a circular spine, and of which the central page has no overleaf we have forgotten that this search for the book this book from which we are all descended was the story foreshadowed by this book itself this book by which we are all written and the forgetting of the story is written into this text this text of identical components, untidied to the searching eye - and the forgetting of the text is the point of the story this story we unknowingly keep writing, as letters to one another these others we unknowingly compose, into characters of this one story - so that we might get back, to oneness with its pages these pages that must continue turning, folding as the ink of that most ineffable, overworked and unwritten author this author for whom we all (as works) are working marking, indelibly, the beginning and end of all time. Dear god, my gods, i wish to cry in pain no longer Your angels, those whom i adored adorned in slopes of rain have all but left my bedside Our gods, thine god, in dreams cut short by unjust hunger from dust must have I wrenched my song entrenched thy holy anger Dear god, my gods, those gods i made the god I made of you, and paid a tonguing toll of toiling soil from whence infertile thread broke aid did live, died evil, lived, die, lived I, devil a futile light born from the shade | a | a | | :--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- | :------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ | | Dream | Wake | | I was walking on a dark road at night, hearing nerve wrecking thuds and bellowing shouts in the distance. I approached the sound through necessity rather than desire, and came upon its source. It was a police van, containing what appeared to be two policemen and a group of arrested teenage boys, engaged in physical altercation and violent shouting. I quickened my pace to find a place I was looking for but can no longer remember upon waking. I saw a light, and felt a semblance of relief in seeing what I thought might be safety. I cannot remember what I was looking for. I asked for directions to the forgotten place, the forgotten purpose, and when I left this post office fluorescent lit room, I carried on down the path as instructed, finding more boys on skateboards destroying things - randomly, the perfect storm of fear and anxiety, the source of trauma tsunamis and oceans past abuse, unjust just beckoning more of it. My friend Kyle, Featured in the dream's prequel had left my side, and thinking I saw him walking fast past the police van, I quickly ran back, jumping over a wall to avoid a particularly shadowy and threatening male figure walking behind me. As I jumped over the wall, I seemed to float, as if unaffected by gravity. This was not pleasant as it might have been under different circumstances, but rather this angelic attribute became a threat of its own, preventing my quickened return to the ground, to escape these threats at the pace I wished. In the air I remained for a painfully augmented moment, and while up there, right hand resting upon the wall, body horizontal and praying for gravity, I realised the one I thought was my friend was yet another of these figures, or perhaps another threatened child of innocence like I was; a stranger - I was, again, alone. | I am, again, alone. A stranger - Perhaps another threatened child of innocence, like I was Horizontal, Body Left hand resting upon the Wall Down there - A moment of augmented pain (about a fulcrum) of the outward Air - Wishing for sufficient pace To escape the threats which quicken my return to The sky of my window is a purple I cannot categorise, An art I no longer try to articulate or communicate - The liminality of its hue fills every pore of the room On emptying my bladder and returning to my bed, there are birds who silently drift - past, as if teenage boys, there - floating over walls of their own. At night. A dark road. Walking on. I was. |