- in the name of Allah -



you can't vanquish the vilified, for their eyes have already been marked closed as the curtains rise, so even though light shines, the rest of day for them is as truth becoming lies. teleport and apparate, jump the skies that planes have navigated, just find a wormhole where time isn't a crushing darkness of the necessitated. chained and bound even though the mouth is open there is no sound, only waves of empathy lost in translation as runes of mystics blurred by speech and linguistic irregularity. caves and pyramids hold the buried treasures, but without explorers the knowledge is as good as nonexistent, just another repercussion of carelessness gone irrevocably rampant. seize the blades before the sieves split open, revealing fate's nameless tokens and suddenly everything visualized becomes lost to the seasons. fill the empty basins with air, but still the pensieve's mist is more substantial so in effect what your putting in isn't really there. like Snape lamented the one part that was his to be played for the world to be saved, I'm reminded that saviors come in many colors and stripes, that even though I want to be a white knight, perchance blue and green may suit me more until falls this curtain of dreams. alas, it's then I can't see myself, my own reflection, not in the mirror of Erised, but that of Hturt, for the wavelengths might be abrogated, stuck in sub-warp speed leaving the image a vision in wonder and question serenaded. flee, flee to the chariot of apathy, take your courtier of courtesy to the shores of antiquity. my bird hasn't yet arrived, but you shall know when it has, made of flames, it doesn't burn but lights the path, awaiting the moment I yield the sword while myself a silver-green hue screaming 'there's none but One', in justice giving the hordes their due.