Hieroglyph 6

The day has been diminished beyond all measure
And I am thankless in the strange work of salvation that you have brought me to
This eternal darkness of your light and cold passion of your heavens
The game of resurrection and the grim solace of grace.
By the river there was warmth and life
Laughter
And the holy embrace of my own kind in all the seasons of the world
But you have brought me to
Eternity itself
In all its pointless opacity
In its empty pain and self consuming hunger.
I would return to my own land and time
Where the earth is fertile and the seasons each have their own glory
But the changelessness of this spot has possessed me and taken my body as its own
As it has taken you
And cast your soft flesh into the freezing waters of existence.
Of all my dreams, you were the splendor and elusive texture
You were the meaning beneath the restlessness of my wanderings.
But you led me here to reveal yourself
Where you bathe in solitude and commune with the silent voice of being
Shedding your garments and wading into the dark tributaries of time
To a place where I live and cannot live
Where I have no place or purpose
No life as any mortal thing ever knew or wanted
And it is precisely this deception that is your love
And your unfathomable mercy
To lead me into this abyss
And to seal the gate of my returning.

Reinterpretation

Hieroglyph 5

In what light do you seek me that I am all the blood and darkness of the world
And what shadows have you thrown upon me and mingled with my breath
That I am your fear and coldest hatred of your kind
The dread silence
The solitude and awesome power of the night.

I have wandered these many months no stranger in your life
But a black presence in the vast and empty womb of your embrace
The one who comes when restless thoughts turn to calm death
And the covers weigh too heavy on your breasts
The voice and touch of all your life's misgivings
The end of solace and the solace of all endings.

“Don’t Worry, It’s Just a Tool”

"Don't Worry, it's Just a Tool" [PDF]

Cleek, M. A., Youril, J. A., Youril, M., & Guarino, R. (2010). “Don’t Worry, It’s Just a Tool”: Enacting Selectively Enforced Laws Such as Curfew Laws Targeting Only the Bad Guys. Justice Policy Journal, 7(1), 1.

Abstract:

The United States Constitution is in place to protect the rights of the citizens. Yet, the current environment leans towards the enactment of more and more laws at all levels of government which erode or eliminate those rights. It is suggested that the fear and chaos of these stressful and uncertain times results in a willingness on the part of legislators and the public that elects them to trade freedom for security. This can have disastrous consequences. Cicero (42 BC) observed, “When people are willing to give up rights for security, they will, in the end, lose both.” This paper examines how laws which violate civil rights, such as curfew laws are passed by municipalities and accepted by the community with an understanding that they will only be selectively enforced against “the bad guys.” Citizens are told by law enforcement that they need such laws as a “tool” and without them they are powerless to deal with the problem population. The fears and frustrations of the public are played upon to give increased powers and latitude for discretionary enforcement of laws to police. (Published Abstract)

HIeroglyph 4

We have walked in the dark fields of eternity
With blood and breath concealed from all men
And the wind that stirs night's cold ashes upon us like a black mantle.
Here the fog rises
And the stars' unholy glistening shimmers upon the unseen waters of the abyss.
Beyond the seasons and all the days of sanity
Where this spot begins there is no ending
And the void seeks out the void.
For ten thousand years no shadow has marked the hour and no life disturbed the serene indifference of being
And no witness shall ever bear us out.

Hieroglyph 3

What can be said of the lives we have wasted here
The blood and breath that we have chained to the rock
The thoughts we have let perish on the dark sword of our days.

An ominous eternity lurks over the sand
While the bleak game continues over the final catastrophe of time.
We are the death here
And the mindless avenging hand.

A pause in the labyrinth is all that remains of our love
A moment stolen from confusion
A ripple in the endless darkness
A cold and tattered instinct for our home.

Among the statues that we plant like wheat
And the grim nameless stones scattered in our unholy fields
What disembodied voices still scream in our winds
What endless dreams of theirs still violate our sleep.