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1. Anywhere out of the World
that could reveal the true dimension of life lest we forget. And maybe it's easier to withdraw from life with all of it's misery and wretched lies. Away from harm. We lay by cool clear waters and gazed into the sun. And like the moths great imperfection succumbed to her fatal charms. And maybe it's me who dreams unrequited love,the victim of fools who stand in line. Away from harm. In our vain pursuit of life for ones own end, will this crooked path ever cease to end. 3. In the Wake of Adversity They don't realise that the angels surround you with light. They don't understand their narrow ways defeat them where they stand. They don't realise you hide your sadness behind a painted smile. Ignorance,that blind old fool who steers a wayward path, has set the course on which we sail into a night of uncertainty. Following the stars that make their way across the sky, Valuing the love that lends grace to our hearts, we sail. 4. Xavier Fraught with danger,the lives you led were judged profane. Hatred enfolds us,inculcates our minds with it's heresy. Laymen enfold us,clemency arise to set you free. Fate,Arvo Rosannia has prayed that life giving waters may rain down on the souls of men to cure them of their ways. These were the sins of Xaviers past,hung like jewels in the forest of veils. Deep in the heart where the mysteries emerge Eve bears the stigma of original sin. Freedoms so hard,when we are all bound by laws etched in the scheme of natures own hand, unseen by all those who fail in their pursuit of fate. Arvo Rosannia has prayed that life giving waters may rain down on the souls of men to cure them of their ways And as the night turns into day will the sun illuminate your way, or will your nightmares come home to stay. Xaviers love lies in chains. These were the sins of Xaviers past,hung like jewels in the forest of veils. By Charles Baudelaire one man would like to suffer in front of the stove, and another believes that he would recover his health beside the window. It always seems to me that I should feel well in the place where I am not, and this question of removal is one which I discuss incessantly with my soul. 'Tell me, my soul, my poor chilled soul, what do you think of going to live in Lisbon? It must be warm there, and there you would invigorate yourself like a lizard. This city is on the sea-shore; they say that it is built of marble and that the people there have such a hatred of vegetation that they uproot all the trees. There you have a landscape that corresponds to your taste! a landscape made of light and mineral, and liquid to reflect them!' My soul does not reply. 'Since you are so fond of stillness, coupled with the show of movement, would you like to settle in Holland, that beautifying country? Perhaps you would find some diversion in that land whose image you have so often admired in the art galleries. What do you think of Rotterdam, you who love forests of masts, as ships moored at the foot of houses?' My soul remains silent. 'Perhaps Batavia attracts you more? There we should find, amongst other things, the spirit of Europe married to tropical beauty.' Not a word. Could my soul be dead? 'Is it that you have reached such a degree of lethargy that you acquiesce in your sickness? If so, let us flee to lands that are analogues of death. I see how it is, poor soul! We shall pack our trunks for Tornio. Let us go farther still to the extreme end of the Baltic; or farther still from life, if that is possible; let us settle at the Pole. There the sun only grazes the earth obliquely, and the slow alternation of light and darkness suppresses variety and increases monotony, that half-nothingness. There we shall be able to take long baths of darkness, while for our amusement the aurora borealis shall send us its rose-colored rays that are like the reflection of Hell's own fireworks!' At last my soul explodes, and wisely cries out to me: 'No matter where! No matter where! As long as it's out of the world!' N'importe où hors du monde By Charles Baudelaire |
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