Purgatory - The Choir

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[Syl]
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Purgatory - The Choir

Post by [Syl] »

The Choir has found a voice.
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
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[Syl]
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Post by [Syl] »

[A chorus of dissonant whispers carried on a warm wind susurrates]

We are Legion
one voice, one purpose
many faces, one light
banish the night
nature is a ruse
the empty muse
see the vastness of Eternity
through the power of song
be one with us
turn away the Hand that binds
gently push the lesser minds
and will the world to you
be not afraid
the herd is not your kind
you are not bound by the Word
stay the Hand that holds
be forever bold
banish the night
become the light
join our voice
We are Legion.
Last edited by [Syl] on Thu Aug 28, 2008 11:10 am, edited 1 time in total.
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
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Post by [Syl] »

wind and water, dust and ember
All from four but one in death
sand is spilt upon the altar
recklessly from broken glass
coils of mortal slack and sunder
spirit holds a fierce embrace
change distorts as thoughts of thunder
herald e’er the lack of grace
bark and beast as wheat and chaff
lessons burn themselves in flesh
broken glass is sought for mending
everwhile the Fiend shall laugh.

burn and boil, blow or bristle
One from four shall rule them all
a beach is borne of broken heart
slipping grasp on firmament
thunder rhythm, tattoo rhyme
ghosts and whispers out of time
truth and truth a sea of words
spirits drift in streams apart
a destiny of love-like hate
everburning splinter wall
chime and chime the clock of fate
everwhile the Fiend shall laugh.
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
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[Syl]
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Post by [Syl] »

[A chorus of dissonant whispers carried on a warm wind susurrates]

light before you
bright and welcome
welcome uss
we will help you
kindnesss, wisdom <HELP YOU!>
sset asside your doubt
do not fear <NO!> !the longesst kisss
look down to the light
sstay and talk
sseassons passs
but all are sspent
know
<KNOW!>
know
the beauty of the light <KNOW!>
learn and lissten
to uss
we know
we ssing <LIGHT!>
we ssing
<EVER!>
we ssing
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
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[Syl]
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Post by [Syl] »

[amidst the chorus of dissonant whispers, a distant, startling soprano weaves a solo within and around, warbling in harmonic but stark descant]

feather touch, breath of fate
fall-ing echo, out... of... time…

warm and wait-ing, sha-dow slum-ber
smol-der soft-ly, hint... of... hate…

wa-king hunger, si-lent thunder
earth-ly passion, death... in... rhyme...

hint... of.... hate...
death... in... rhyme...
out... of... time....................
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
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[Syl]
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Post by [Syl] »

[The chorus of whispers continues, the faraway soprano fades further, while a slow thunder seems to grow out of the distant horizon. It rumbles nearer, nearer, rhythmically, enshrouding all, suddenly transforming bone into a wakening hive of bees. The thunder externalizes without warning – and it isn’t thunder at all, but a marching wall of continuous bassi profundi chant, in near unison]

want, dearth, strife, ta-ken
death, birth, life, ta-ken
heart, soul, mind, wa-ken
wa-ken

want, dearth, strife, spo-ken
<gather>
death, birth, life, bro-ken
<ever>
soul, heart, mind, o-pen
<ever more>
spo-ken, bro-ken

want, dearth, strife, ta-ken
<harness>
death, birth, life, ta-ken
<ever charnal>
grind, shard, coals, wa-ken
<thought as deed, burning need>
o-pen, bro-ken

want, dearth, strife, ta-ken
<song and light, burning nigjht>
death, birth, life, wa-ken
<claim the bane>
art, shroud, wine, ta-ken
<love profane>
wa-ken, wa-ken

want, dearth, strife, ta-ken
<gather>
death, birth, life, ta-ken
<waxing faithful>
spilth, dolor, fret, wa-ken
<more yet more>
wa-ken, wa-ken

want, dearth, strife, ta-ken
death, birth, life, ta-ken
truth, eyes, Truth, spo-ken
bro-ken

<freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...>


[The rumbling fades as slowly as it came – leaving shudders and a surprising emptiness in its wake]
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
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[Syl]
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Post by [Syl] »

[a chorus of dissonant whispers... first from one side, then another... at random, pleadingly insistent for your attention, susurrating the following]

The waking stone of ages, brittle and beautiful
a true hardness of spirit, with dolorous face
ever-stinging stillness, sequestered by Fate;
Among the vagaries, there is a doom
of complacency, fierceness unbending, out of place;
why no succor of happiness, no ease of hate?

Are we the firmament of sin, or exhalations of predestiny;
is it guilt, calumny, an abdication of reason
in the wake of fear, or love, or the passions of the time-bound?
Struggle, aggrandize, spill our lusts, slake our fleshly greeds,
but upon whose altar do we lay this treasure
why garrote ourselves with needful sacrifice,
when the benison, if even offered, bears little recompense?

Kings are forged in the furnace of naked desire
That which is born can only die
So, how to lose the shackles of time,
when the warp and weft of it tattoos the soul
as shards of sunlight on a pool of tears?

Transcend, fool.
The way is hidden only for those who seek.
Does it lie on the wings of foes,
Does it delight in friendly misery,
Does it feed on nameless husks?
…or does it sit within, an instant of dispassion
awaiting the dilation of knowledge, or some darker taint?

If stone can rise to bemoan its loss,
and if perfection can be borne of perdition,
and crowns can be fashioned from the adumbrations of the past,
then a diamond can be made from no thing,
and ashes become the currency of the wicked.
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
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[Syl]
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Post by [Syl] »

[A chorus of dissonant whispers carried on a warm wind susurrates]
aims and paths twist anon
turn a corner, the road is gone
wilted promise, stilted pose
Fiendly favors dark repose
dervish instinct, wanderlust
hearts impounded, wither trust
stern alliance, hidden smile
balderdashing open guile
worms to scale, weighty flyer
some abhor, some admire
follow follow, find all air
how to get back down from there?
fall (ow) fall (ow), find the earth
major portent, purpose dearth
ask anew, thought you knew
know yet why no sky of blue?
ever-burning pile of blight
or subtle riddle, soul as kite?
seek and seek, or take and ponder
everwhile the Fiend grows fonder…
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
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[Syl]
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Post by [Syl] »

[A single, hollow voice rasps the following quietly into your ear - it is free of inflection, but spoken in haste]
The greatest peril of knowledge
Is the illusion of answering
The question never asked
The greatest peril of ignorance
Is the reality of never questioning.

How many questions before the asker becomes the answerer?

How many answers before the answerer is barren?

Perhaps it is not what you ask, but that you ask…

What is your will? Why did you choose to come here, prisoner?

What is the weight of a soul? Answer, and surpass.
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
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[Syl]
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Post by [Syl] »

Everyone, please thank DukkhaWaynhim for his contributions as the Voice of the Choir.
"It is not the literal past that rules us, save, possibly, in a biological sense. It is images of the past. Each new historical era mirrors itself in the picture and active mythology of its past or of a past borrowed from other cultures. It tests its sense of identity, of regress or new achievement against that past.”
-George Steiner
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Fist and Faith
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Post by Fist and Faith »

You're kidding!!! 8O That's a riot!!! :lol:
All lies and jest
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
-Paul Simon
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Tänya
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Post by Tänya »

I knew it!!!
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Tänya
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Post by Tänya »

oops
wrong account
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Post by Brother Charn »

It was a pleasure being the Voice of the Choir. Fun, mysterious, and a way to try out different definitions of what passes for poetry.

Thanks for the opportunity - I'm sad to see the game end. It was fun watching.

dw
BCakaDWakaD!

- Brother Charn
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Post by Menolly »

Truly...
Thank you so much, dw.

The concept of The Choir in this game was unique and inspirational to me.
And you did a wonderful job of puzzling the hell out of me, if you'll pardon the pun.
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Post by Avatar »

:LOLS:

--A
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