Hic Sunt Dracones

the smylere with the knyf under the cloke

I Have No Castle; I Make Unmovable Mind My Castle

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I have no sword; I make the sleep of the mind my sword.*

I can’t sleep. Does that makes me a pacifist or my mental sword still sheathed?

Enclosed, my mind pregnant with cold metallurgy of profanity — spitting hatred as opposed to battering vengeance.

The sea breeze didn’t offer the usual zen-like serenity, in this balmy night.

I spat tragedy. I cried apathy.

I can’t sleep.

Thus I sheath my “sword” and spill the fluid of “innocence”. Till I lay asleep in the arm of ethereal “succubus”.

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*Extract from the Samurai creed, referring to the condition of detachment known as “Muga.” The Spirit of Zen.

Written by cthulhu

January 20, 2009 at 4:24 am

Posted in life and dream

Tagged with , , , , ,

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