The muse and the demon.

Herein follows the ancient chronicles of how the Devil’s foremost demon was turned, and how a man reached salvation through divination and enlightenment. D’s greatest weapon is ignorance, which gives birth to his tools; hatred, terror and destruction.

Higurashi:
An ethereal storm of scarlet and black begins to form, growing in magnitude by the second. In a few seconds, a small crater is formed with a terrible crash as the silhouette of the one who brings darkness returns once again. The crater fills up with earth, and before the giant dead oak tree he stands, seemingly dazed and weak.
“Sozia…” he whispers, as he slowly collapses to the ground.

mshcherbatskaya: In Sozia’s place, another woman appears in a cascade of opalescent light. She is the Muse Sozia promised, and she is as beautiful as Higurashi could imagine. Her figure shimmers like a heat mirage as her form shifts again and again: she is robed in white, her face shines with purity; she wears nothing but jewels and her skin gleams with temptation; she is Beatrice; she is the Dark Lady; she is Le Belle Dame Sans Merci; she is the Lady of the Lake; she is the Branch and Crown. She walks in beauty as the night and her voice falls like rain on cracked earth.

“I have come from the Immateria, Dark One, to both serve and conquer. We have been granted special dispensation to meet here without limits. Tell me of yourself, and I will do so in turn.”

Higurashi shakes, tries to get up, his arms trembling as he heaves himself to his knees. “You… yes… yes, I know you. I am his Lordships foremost servant. I am the greatest demon The Lord of Hell has access to. Samael, Lucifer, Beelzebub, The Devil. He is my master, and I do his bidding. I bring people to hell, every day. Countless by numbers, endless by sin and injustice. He aids me, he spared me, and so his will shall be done. A demonstration of power is something he never turns away from. …As that which was my personality regards you… I see I am going to have some trouble battling something this beauteous…”

“I am only as beautiful as you imagine me to be, Dark One, and I have no power but that which is granted to me by the imagination of poets. I have no form to strike you down, nor any flesh which may be injured. Nevertheless, I may be dispelled if your imagination is sufficient to overcome me, for magic is but a fiction of the mind, as am I. If you choose to face me, you will face the words of poets, and by the force of their spirits, you will be defeated.”

“And a great power that is. I am at a severe disadvantage, since power is all my master is. But then, there is imagination in the ways of pain, in the ways of inflicting pain. You may begin, as I tell my master of this through the torrents of shadows. He will grant me a way.”

“I know of your master. Dante has shown this to me, your master and his realm. His punishments are both brutal and just, though he is himself a betrayer of Heaven and as such, is himself punished. This is the source of his rage, his hunger, and his power, is it not?”

“It is. When he resided in that other kingdom the disillusioned call “Heaven”, he was the voice of God. Now, we like to think we are pleased with our own enterprise, and one day, we WILL conquer all. It is only a matter of time. Through me, this will satisfy his lust to some extent. He will be pleased with me.”

Higurashi starts to whisper, slowly, and with heavy breath.
“Florence, rejoice! For thou o’er land and sea…”

“When I had journeyed half of our life’s way…
hard to speak of what it was…
even in recall renews my fear…
Yesss… I know of his exploits.” Higurashi focuses, mumbling incoherently.
“Bring it, apparition. My heart is not in this, but he will channel what he sees befitting.”

She begins with with a gesture as though sowing seeds.

“To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.”

From her hand flows a swarm of tiny golden bees, and as they fly towards Higurashi, the arena seems to fill with tall grasses that sway in the warm breeze that flows from their wings. The bees settle upon the young man lost in dark communion, stinging him. But they carry no venom, no, for what would venom be to one who lives in the poisonous air of Hell. It is instead a sweet intoxicant, calling forth memories of days before he fell into servitude, of spring grass and singing insects and the sun warm upon his face.

The other combatants do not see this, or if they do, it is only as a passing fancy, a wandering thought. The lady of this place would not wish the others disturbed, and so they are not, unless they wish to watch the daydream unfold.

“What… what is this trickery? AAaaaarrrr…. NO! They are lost to me. Lost forever. All I have is him now…” He chants…

“The strong flame,
of which I can hardly speak,
remind me of what I am walking on,
make me reminiscence
all that has been,
all that stands before me,
and all that I have been given.”

“All I have been given is from him!” Higurashi screams, metal grinding in the back of his voice, like that of rust scraping against bare steel.

From him emanates now scorching waves of scarlet, spreading like a fire in the emerald grass. The energy fills the room, and bees fall to the ground, crushed.

“He gives, and I deliver. Please… leave me be. I am lost.” With this, head bowed and body hanging like a puppet in the air, waves of spiky rocks wallow forth towards the apparition, seeking to entomb her in solitude and corruption.

She weeps, all his despair and loss upon her, she weeps for him. Frozen in ice, a dead tree in a dark forest, a body whipped upon the wind. The suffering is ever-renewed in him and the agony is unbearable. He is a dead, helpless thing, no life moves in him, only that darkness which is his lord’s gift and curse. It penetrates her spirit, it drains her, she cannot save herself, but she can save him and in so doing, end both their suffering.

“Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree
In the cool of the day, having fed to sateity
On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been contained
In the hollow round of my skull. And God said
Shall these bones live? shall these
Bones live? And that which had been contained
In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:
Because of the goodness of this Lady
And because of her loveliness, and because
She honours the Virgin in meditation,
We shine with brightness.”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAaaaaaaa….aaa…? GOD?
My Master seems to wish to end this quickly. HE has no power here, but YOU, you must be removed from this place. I see you can affect me. HE can not.”
Higurashi, floating mid-air, brings his head up with a hundred cracking, snapping sounds, yellow eyes surrounded by a jagged onyx ring staring madly upon the figure of beauty now torturing his mind through the unbelievable power of her purity.

He chants, his voice shaking the ground, in spite of being so low it can not be heard by normal means. In some way, the words echo in the heads of all entities in that place.

“All of god’s children would have cause
To think the devil now walks this realm
A place dis-possessed of any sanity
Edification of a scene from hell

Bring to me,
through this,
the unquenchable storm inside me,
give me the strength
that will burn inside,
past time itself,

Create through destruction,

Enrage and embrace,
expand and erase

Man-made prophecies serve to vindicate
All sides who claim themselves
Worthy servants obedient to the same god
A god that commands them not to kill

These faithful in lines that number thousands
Bring perdition throughout the land
As though the Angel of Death
Himself had been unleashed
To exact a punishment on this world

Across this cursed place
Rage the fires
Where the innocent are burned
On a thousand funeral pyres
In anguish parted from this world
Does the need for the belief
In the devil serve to palliate
Self to forgive us our sins

In the abandonment of reason
and our delivery into hell
Limitless of rays of mankind
In its virulent capacities”

The words spew forth in indescribable speed, but they are all perceived, and it is as though all who felt it could repeat it word by word.

“These are words from the lost. Those who have seen the truth, and wallow in despair. We… the demons, reside inside all of you, and no misconception, no insipid “principle” of love or understanding or anything can change our fate. Surrender…”

With this, the area behind The Demon turns black. A consuming wave of dark fluid seems to flow forth in a deluge of death, threatening to drown the Muse in endless torrents of pain and despair.

After this, the body of the demon thumps to the surface of the fluid, as if it was rock solid. He slumps, blood seeping from his ears.

“Damn you… Too powerful… you must die, even if I shall perish.”

The Muse takes one last gasp of perfumed air before disappearing under the wave of water that reflects no light. This creature that holds him does so through the pain of the mundane world, the trenches of battlefields and the canyons of great cities that tear the belly of the sky with their crumbling towers. The light of heaven does not reach the depths of these places. There is no life but the trudging feet of other sad, slumped souls. But if the hand of one soul were to brush the hand of another, if one were to look in passing at this young man with a generous eye, this sickness could be drained from him.

“Sometimes you just want to tell stories to people you don’t know.
Remind them that life isn’t just laps around a graveyard.
Remind them that tomorrows are becoming yesterdays faster than sunlight in September.
Cajole them into acknowledging their good side more often.
Put little booties on wounded self-fulfillments and re-teach them walking.
Whisper sermons of hopefulness in their ears while they sleep.
Slip an extra mickey of love into their drink when they aren’t looking.
Start rumors about their potential that have good offers pounding a path to their deserving doors.
Implicate them in the story of a mystery person who saved a drowning man the day before.
Leave them flowers anonymously in the night.
Leave them poems of adoration where they can be found.”

“N-no more. Please.”
As the fluid coagulates and dissipates, the body of the demon seemed to change. It changed from onyx to a pearl white, from crushed and slumped to tall and monumental, from lifeless and corrupt to something resembling the visage of a great man.
Beside this radiant silhouette lay what must be a corpse. It twitched violently, erratically, dark and collapsed, and suddenly sprung up, standing on only skin. Inside orifices the scarlet river could be seen, holding it up, controlling.
It opened its mouth slowly, and the pressure of the force emanating from it pushed all aside.”Fool. You can not rob me of my servant.” Flowing forth from the lifeless hollow thing came a wall of grey, and on it assembled letters. As the letters took place, one by one, they were spoken by both the hollow puppet, head lowered, mouth moving rapidly, and the tall man, the latter twisting in pain, eyes closed and tightly held shut in excruciation.

“You see the beast that made me turn aside;
help me, o famous sage, to stand against her,
for she has made my blood and pulses shudder,

the beast that is the cause of your outcry
allows no man to pass along her track,
but blocks him even to the point of death;

her nature is so squalid, so malicious
that she can never sate her greedy will;
when she has fed, she’s hungrier than ever.

She mates with many living souls and shall
yet mate with many more, until the Greyhound
arrives, inflicting painful death on her.

So spread’st thy pinions that the fame of thee
Hath reached no less into the depths of Hell.
So noble were the five I found to dwell
Therein — thy sons — whence shame accrues to me
And no great praise is thine; but if it be
That truth unveil in dreamings before dawn,
Then is the vengeful hour not far withdrawn
When Prato shall exult within her walls
To see thy suffering. Whate’er befalls,
Let it come soon, since come it must, for later,
Each year would see my grief for thee the greater.”

As the last words echo through the shell that was once Higurashi, a gigantic beam of red, with onyx snakes crawling along its surfaces in blinding speed, spinning, seething, shot forth towards the womanly figure.

As raw power spawn of hatred, terror and destruction dominated the place, the shining man spoke.
“Just a little bit more, Muse, and I am free. I beg you… I will repay it. Tell me of love, of the endless possibilities of-” And he shuts his mouth, his hands flying to stop his breath. Eyes wide open, terror and hatred roams freely behind his eyes as he is inflicted by the torture of the fallen angel once more.

The red beam throws her to the ground and the snakes writhe about her, her body wrapped in their coils. Slowly, they constrict, crushing the air from her lungs.

Tell him of love? Tell him of its endless possibilities? One serpent slips around her throat, choking off her breath as well as her words, and through her pain she smiles. It has ever been thus with the Fallen One, the Deceiver. He would have the world believe that truth can speak through only one mouth, that love can only have one source, that power can be the possession of a single thing only. That her attack, if it can truly be called that, comes from her alone.

As her vision fades, the world around the young man starts to speak. The grass and trees whisper to him, the river murmurs sleepily in its bed, the crickets and the birds sing,

“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”

“Enough!” The man now spoke, his voice vibrant and golden, grabbing the devil’s puppet by the throat, as torrents of golden energy flow into him from the surroundings now brought forth by the Muse.
“It is enough now… I must leave your employ. Find someone else to bring your possessions to your kingdom. You have deceived me. Shown me only parts of what is. Pieces of what can be.
I remember the rest now…”

“The eternal breeze,
show me the way,
the error of my ways,
the true path of my never-ending journey.

Run thy course straight like an arrow in my minds eye,
through me,
through flesh,
stone and through my enemies.

Return me to the point where I was certain,
retrace if you must,
but show me how to fly,
how to reach,
reach all of the secrets of the universe,
reach my goals,
and erase all misconceptions.

Facilitate my progress,
simplify all mysteries,
enrich my world,
put purpose for the laws set in this creation,
and life that may behold the wonders of this world.

The overcoming love,
make us believe,
open our eyes as to why this is,
tame the chaos with thy compassion,
and set the laws prerequisite for life.

Endure through all trials,
show us how to find the meaning,
guide us in thy absence,
emblaze our minds,
so that we may find the passion inside us,
so that we may overcome all doubt,
and see the true goal of it all.

Complete the search,
define the quest that set us here,
perhaps even offer us a monomyth,
without clouding our eyes,
and bring us together!

Give to me the vision
needed for me to explain
the thing that pulls us together,
the thing that pushes us forward,
when we really only want to go back,
back into ourselves,
and into oblivion,
denying all.

The strong flame,
of which I can hardly speak,
remind me of what I am walking on,
make me reminiscence
all that has been,
all that stands before me,
and all that I have been given.

Bring to me,
through this,
the unquenchable storm inside me,
give me the strength
that will burn inside,
past time itself,
and enable me to charge,
myself and others,
so that we may pierce the blackness
that may be,
or come to be.

Create through destruction,
and use your strong,
flaming arms to cultivate the land,
bellow forth from nothingness,
completing the place of our birth,
and the balance of life’s law.

Enrage and embrace,
expand and erase,
make for me possible to walk the path I wish,
create a path through the thickness of adversity,
and show my enemies my potential,
solve the puzzles of the enigma,
but remain,
originating from me,
just teaching me how to struggle.”

As the words remind him of what could come to be, as the words of the Muse allows him to reminiscence, showing him absolutely new paths of the world, he chants these words of his own device. His grip tightens, and the eyes of the marionette weaken, seemingly afraid.

“I know you are weak. That is why you send others to do your foul work.” With this, he crushes the neck with mighty fingers, and energy within the shell constipate, flowing ever wilder. In a massive climax, the energy explodes, searing the place. Crimson and onyx flames, snakes and rust and flesh all dissipate slowly, as the puppet sinks to the floor, devoid of all life.

“I… I don’t know how to thank you, Muse. You have shown me the truth. Through the glimpses you have given, simply through them, I can imagine the endless possibilities we posses through the eternal principles of love and truth. I don’t know how to repay you, but I will do my all to live a life governed by those edictal promises from here on. Mayhap in time can I conquer the effects of my terrible past. Mayhap…”

As a new man leaves the arena, he knows the Muse lives on in us all, and he smiles, for the first time in his existence, in spite of the darkness always pursuing him.

You’ll never silence the voice of the voiceless.

I am an idiot.

Visiting bilddagboken.se, I start to browse my friends uploaded pictures. Getting to Poemy, first thing I think is how beautiful she ever remains. Secondly, how much I miss her. Thirdly, I visit her blog and thus, the hand of fate tears me to Ronii’s blog. Real clever.

I did know I had not gotten over her. I gave her more of me than I have ever given anyone, and she would have been the one. My only love. The one who could have made me shed the rusty skin of my past and enable me to pursue my full potential. The one over whom I could pour all my never-ending, unmatched love. As I sit here shaking uncontrollably and crying violently in relentless panic attacks, I begin to think she will always be just that.

Since that day, I shut down anew. When she threw me aside, it was the hardest blow I have ever taken, simply because I had opened myself to her. I never thought I would have been able to do that to anyone after what I’ve been through. All the other shit that’s been done to me was done to my outer shell, which is tough beyond words. But she hit right in the spot. Right in my fleshy, exposed soul.

But it’s not her fault, either. I’m the fool. Why would I bet everything on such a young girl? Because I wanted absolution from all those years of torture. Because she could have changed everything. Because we were so good together. I’m so fucked up. The world does not cater to things so small as men, especially those with the outmost foolish pursuit of love.

So here I sit, having just crawled out of a foetus position, barely being able to write as I shake, weak as I am. I haven’t cried since she left me, and I haven’t felt anything in the proximity of this. Guess I had but one shot to get me out of this, and it was misdirected. I am truly lost.

\\

Wind of the richest,
sweep within me all doubt away,
cleanse me,
purified and whole,
sooting my pain.

Rain of the purest,
shower from me all corruption,
redeem me,
tranquilize and simplify,
by thy hand,
thy deluge of nature.

Flame of the most passionate,
incinerate my existence,
destroy and rebuild,
me as complete,
I can see clearly for ever.

Earth of the most secure,
encompass all of my illusions,
decompose my fears,
nurture my dreams,

I will persevere.

//

Right…

Can not erase the pain inside without a storm within.

So, I’ve had thousands of concepts running through my mind all this time about what I could write about in this blog. As always, it’s too much, so I just give up and end up producing nothing, keeping it to myself for good and for bad.

However, it is way past time that I muse of the demon we all keep inside us. I can only speak from personal experience, but I theorise that we all possess this, more or less. Most a lot less than me.

Old habits die hard, they say. The human is a very adaptable creature, and can form instinctive behaviour easily due to affecting outer circumstances. The mind shapes you according to what is needed in the situation, and some are granted a more or less powerful mind, capable of shaping you more or less. Through willpower and the instinct to stay alive, one person can turn into a terrible force if needed.

Have you ever been in danger of your life?

When fighting for your life has become a habit, all the factors associated with this behaviour seem to never fade out. You become addicted to the rush, and you are capable of anything. Anything.

I am trying to live a normal life now. Been studying at university level before I was drafted, and made a wonderful friend, as mad as me. But it always creeps up on me when not occupied. This need to fight. The need for adventure, danger and… the power, I regret to say.

In my case, it is exceptionally dangerous as my past brings it out relentlessly. Subjected to sporadic memories of what has been when I am at the place now called “home”, it is very hard to contain my old self. Very, very hard.

Worst part is, it nullifies all the love I keep inside, which is what made me tread away from that path in the first place. Anna taught me three years ago the frailty of the human being. She also taught me the endless beauty and unlimited potential we posses, however, and all this in combination woke me slowly from my indifference. A year ago, I liked to think I was a new man, filled with all the love that had been suppressed through all my years. Emotionally reborn. God that was hard to process. Maybe this is a result of me failing in doing so. There is no way for a human being to handle all the emotions induced for seventeen years just exploding all at once. I had to do that to survive. I didn’t know what to do, I had no choice. I had to shut down.

But now I realise the old me will never die. I realise I have to fight to keep him inside for the rest of my life, and I realise it will forever inflict me, and, worst of all, my ability to love. You can not afford love when living like that. I call him Higurashi, he calls me weakling.

I can still honour the eternal principle of truth, right? I can still live for the concept, the force of love, right?

I like to think I can.

Angelique, this is for you. Again. Forgive my lack of passion. I will always love you.

\\
See beauty on the floor.
Wish she would show and give more.

The most beautiful thing you have ever seen,
though she is still ”just” a teen,
and more full of wonder then anyone has ever been.

Beauty does not always realise her gifts,
but such things always shifts.

She likes to deny her own skill,
but nothing in her denial is still.

With tarnished and damaged wings of magic,
she tells of a fate of tragic.

She heals with her bare presence,
with just her own essence,
and like the norns of myth and legend,
she spins and sows the fabric of a saviour pageant.
//

It always begins with the wind.

Woopie, my first go at a blog.

I have not ever bothered to create one, since I have had the diary at helgon.net to ventilate in, but I figured this is a better way if I would want anything I create to reach anyone else beyond my contacts at aforementioned site.

And yes, I will use English as the primary language of this blog. It is the language with which I can express myself best, and most of all, everyone will understand it.

I could have made this first post the one where I present a rather epic explanation of the inner demon, which was my first intention, but instead I have tired and will as such post a poem composed by me to honour the phenomenons that are power, courage and wisdom (base, life and law).

Due to its nature, it is composed with outmost impulsiveness (and shall ever be) and constantly changes over time, so please bear with me.  =]

\\
The eternal breeze,
show me the way,
the error of my ways,
the true path of my never-ending journey.

Run thy course straight like an arrow in my minds eye,
through me,
through flesh,
through stone and through my enemies.

Return me to the point where I was certain,
retrace if you must,
but show me how to fly,
how to reach,
reach all of the secrets of the universe,
reach my goals,
and erase all misconceptions.

Facilitate my progress,
simplify all mysteries,
enrich my world,
put purpose for the laws set in this creation,
and life that may behold the wonders of this world.

The overcoming love,
make us believe,
open our eyes as to why this is,
tame the chaos with thy compassion,
and set the laws prerequisite for life.

Endure through all trials,
show us how to find the meaning,
guide us in thy absence,
emblaze our minds,
so that we may find the passion inside us,
so that we may overcome all doubt,
and see the true goal of it all.

Complete the search,
define the quest that set us here,
mayhap conjure us a monomyth,
without clouding our eyes,
and bring us together!

Give to me the vision
needed for me to explain
the thing that pulls us together,
the thing that pushes us forward,
when we really only want to go back,
back into ourselves,
and into oblivion,
denying all.

The strong flame,
of which I can hardly speak,
remind me of what I am walking on,
make me reminiscence
all that has been,
all that stands before me,
and all that I have been given.

Bring to me,
through all this,
the unquenchable storm inside me,
give me the strength
that will burn inside,
past time itself,
and enable me to empower,
myself and others,
so that we may pierce the blackness
that may be,
or come to be.

Create through destruction,
and use your strong,
flaming arms to cultivate the land,
bellow forth from nothingness,
completing the place of our birth,
and the balance of life’s law.

Enrage and embrace,
expand and erase,
make for me it possible to walk the path I wish,
create a road through thickness of adversity,
and expose my enemies to my true potential,
solve the riddles of the enigmata,
but remain,
originating from me,
just teaching me how to struggle.
//

Farore, Nayru, Din. Amen, Q.E.D.