Butterfly Woman

''Silence steals away sorrows  for good. Its innocent smile shall pour dried up tears from heaven's lust, nourishing flesh hopes beneath the empty sky....Delay my dreams around to  crescent shadows ....''(Author's comment)

AD NOTCTIS : HARMONIUM

Vobis  suus:

An story shares memories beyond acoustic allegories in contretemps

An sign for all those stray thoughts are hanging around with silkworms like to brand an difficult moment from our lifetime. Here up there an labyrinth could describe an trajectory  of fragrances to fickle  its lights. It would be called for gloominess?

One single trace of grey hope is foreshadowing all over the place.

An resonance is hesitating to gleam of one’s eyes for its yield arrows to an bright transparency, when an storyteller started to confess herself on the floor. I am the desert, the infinite of an pale imagery to easy movements. Am I here? For long?...All it has drown into nocturnae of May whereas Time should put an mark on it. Will continue to do so until her breath won’t last for too long. You may ask: how is it so?

It will follow the best answer for it: the butterfly’s wings were destroyed by paint when her pale embrace of Earth washed away the heart stone. She has buried her heart upon  labyrinth’s shadows.

No echoes from labyrinth’s pathways by now. A butterfly has lead on her ruined wings to bridle the daily rotten mask like. You may feel her presence everywhere. She used to idolize Marduk  deeply  under an hibernal hymn  for. Marduk the Serpent God has burned down her heart. The winter’s solstice…..

 All those impressive incantations of life’s patterns must be for occultist pleading with its yellow wings. I’m deep into suffering!?

It winters. Amorphous it will winter to all kind of spasmodic crises. Remembrance shall speak for us.

Lost for an grave worm or of its unspeakable death…..

It has remained for crushing her bones to harmonium of self-illusions,  tainting beneath lightening spheres. She tasted enough from  bitterness potion, it’s too much for her…….She repeats to herself this rambling echo for thousands times where dust has outspoken by selfless views from every side, sitting along with her dizziness ……May I speak to thy? She says  pain ……it  were beats like bones crushing into the mists of hopeless fears, it will be dust always …..Pain has to beat pain between the limits of extremity  like  though  timeless framework to rage’s ravishment. She has thought about all those faceless distresses of woman’s , eternal return for genderless beings walking all over after lost pathways of drunkenness’….Runways to  faraway lovers, LOVE is dead shivering its  innocent ashes …….LOVE was starved to death. It pours like madness enthroned. Nor bitterness shall reign over the shadows ever! It were lightened candles: one for AMOR ET VINCERE ( LOVE WILL CONQUER  FROM ALL)  and another to ARS AMANDI beyond moth-men’s constellation and their crucified fears at dawn. The henchman will be subdued to a confession ceremony in front of butterfly-woman. She laughed at him.

Moron, she whispered. The henchman plays the fool. Moron, she shouts.

The nameless lovers were stick by ARS AMANDI into chaotic ways. The same lust must been told  for wrong  ways, while Time’s Sacred Fiend has whistled awry  from above, butterfly slurs with sharp voice for its shadowy to shed echoes. It will spread her breed all round. Bloody hell! Infinity’s spheres like heartbeats then let it be cold suffering along! It must have known for depression  up to ego’s ritual murder. I am Daemon, she says. I have committed a self-betrayal.  

She was fought with ego’s echoes from the past. It won’t last but it slowly kills me. I’m certain of.

 Somewhere  her soul’s gateways were  ruined. Up there nameless lovers have vanished their pride onto daemon ‘s warm chops. They were sap  from sweet dream to youth’s.

She could be an grave less butterfly wearing  occult  marks all over her body. The cross mark. It’s burial stone was  painted to viridian. Obsessions grew heavy to her.

She mustn’t known what was happened, not even now …………

Labyrinth, arise eternal labyrinth!

(Author's translation from Romanian to English- Femeia fluture)