Song for the End of the World.


                   There is no time, and little left to sing about,
                   so little left for any who come after.
                   Fear for the children, a little warning, come
                                     too late,
                                     as always.
                   A little knowledge:
                          "We have discovered -
                                     heat and cold,
                                    the power of elements,
                                     the slow turn of galaxies,
                                    the coldness between the stars.
                              That time is an extension of space.
                                          That love exists."
                   A legacy, a small gift for the future.
                   A tiny song to wile the night away.

(Chorus I)

                I stood on a sea shore at evening
              when the sun danced a silver path
                over the whispering sea.
                               I danced, too, on the cold evening sand -
                I sang my little song to the rustling breeze,
                and we laughed together, the breeze and I,
               and the sun and the surf smiled to sea me

Anatomy of a Suicide.

Nameless run through vast pale halls tall marble pillared red and black
in terror torn and lonely screaming searching for the sky
beneath a roof of vaulted tears your helpless wings beat frantically
lost in airless space, without time, without place, and cry

Silently in anguish none can recognise foregoing orthodox convention -
mountains silvered, bleak high peaks, free birds wheeling in the sky -
Your hands and wings are useless now to tear at patient window-bars
that block the light and cloud the night and you scream

As they nail you to a barred oak door, upside down, blood and tears
stream silently for freedom once glimpsed in the sunlit flange of an upswept wing
                    - But not for you.

Now are they breaking the sacred bread, now are they pouring the wine,
Your blood, their wine, your blood, their wine, their bread
white as clouds but you cannot taste
the salt in your mouth and the final desperation

As the blinded tortured raptor cowering broken in the corner,
makes one last effort to spread its wings, as you did, once,
on a day maybe when the being that is you lay open to the stars
and you danced alone on lonely islands
under the vastness of the sky

and soared the high places unknown and atavistic, first
              created thing,
New-born from sea spray on some frozen shore.....

Die now.

              Let others take the burden.
                      You will not find peace.

              Let us die now.......

(Chorus II)

                     Years wallow in the mud of a single day
                and all is grey - except sunrise
                     and sunset marking time
               and the stars that shine upon you too -
            Meeting and parting make no difference
                        in eternity;
               But an aching fills my being,
                      and I am dead till I return.


The humans came from unknown spaces to our bleak and untamed world,
With its blues too deep for speaking and our skies afire with stars,
                          Landed coldly on our clifftops in their tall ships - saw our land
Harsh with crystal, treeless, cloudless, beneath a wilderness of stars.
In their eyes we had no beauty: Welcomed we them just the same
                          As any stranger to our heartland.
                       But we did not understand!
By our sea they built a city rising tall into the sky,
Round about it planted gardens to produce the air they breathed.
Loosed upon our land strange creatures -
                      still we did not understand.
                          Then came more ships, bigger, prouder. Helplessly we soared and
As vast machines noised their way across our deserts and our mountains
In an eyeblink ours no longer, as we watched them change our world.
Millenia of dreaming shattered, stars we could not see through clouds,
Mountains - rounded: rock-coast - sanded: rivers dug through native rock:
Brought they soil and planted forests, poisoned the seas and filled the air
With noise where once our silence blossomed.
                     Lost we were to our own heartland,
               Lost our blueness, wildness, lovehome,
               Gone the joy of midnight soaring,
               Gone the hope of future dreaming.
               Cloaked in stars we were no longer:
               Heavy, tree-clad, earth-bound, clouded,
                Dying slowly, spirits broken,
               Hopeless, loveless, lost -

                              and their's....

(Chorus III)

                     I think I met you once, on another plane,
                       on a timeless day when my Self touched yours for an instant
                 and was gone. And from the corners of my mind
                         stirred memories of other times and places -
                vast silverness and solitude, a silent state
                       of being, of power and love without surrender
                 - at that touch. It lingered on and on.
                           And meeting
                         once again, upon this plane, I knew you,
                 but did not know from where......

Our favourite method of travel.
       We do not fly between the stars:
                       We skim them,
                 moving from star to star in the closing of an eye
and without effort, measuring newton and tesla instinctively
                          and catching the stellar wind within our wings.
       Ah, to feel the dust of interstellar space upon the skin!
               to feel the flex and play of the forces that brought the cosmos into
as we skim the chromospheres of main sequence suns!
                    Time does not exist here. We can watch the birth and death in fiery
       dissolution of both stars and civilisations. What care we,
                        whose every whim is granted?
We have eternity to play in. We are spread throughout time, throughout space,
              no race have we, no place to call home
        but the vast pulsating depths between the stars,
                        where life is.
To feel the heart uplifted in the wake of every wave and pulse of radiation
weaving a web of force from star to star till voice becomes necessity,
                  joy must be screamed aloud........
There are we.

Join us.

(Chorus IV)

                          Along a distant windswept shore I walked, alone, with you,
                          Where long-dead voices spoke in whispers on the rolling
                        cold grey waves
        And told of ancient happiness in tall gold towers on the sands
        When an ancient race laughed in the desert haze -
                        So long ago. And now we walked
                        Where none would ever walk again,
                        And the grey and piercing light glinting on the fine grey sands
                        Gave colour to our sadness, from horizon to horizon,
                        And the ceaseless wind caressed the vast flat shores of
                                the dying world
                        And in its arms the cold grey world
                         Was gently rocked to sleep.

Remember Summer.

                You may walk the silent streets
And in the darkness try to find what you are looking for;
                            Or drown yourself in other's tears
And in their darkness take their petty joys and sorrows on you.
                             Or maybe you can face the light
And show the secret joy of life to all those who surround you -
                                                        Though I do not think your hopes can touch
The blind, or vain, or hopeless hearts of those who share the world with you.
                            Will you also despair, or quietly surrender,
Or is your frail mind of stronger breed than those who go before you?
                            Would you also try to find a cure
To cure the blind, the lame, the sick, and those whose beings ache with grief;
                            Could you profess a moral cure
And turn an insane world into a light-filled Paradise......?

                            But there is no elixir for life's vain labour pains -
Stranger, you must suffer while you are here alive and weeping.

(Chorus V)

                        The wind shakes the earth on which I lie
                                 with cold dispassionate anger.
                         I cannot sleep.
                              The stars are too bright,
                        calling to me down the centuries
                         in high bright silent voices
                   mingling with the wind.........
            I want to go home now.


        We sleep in silence, now,
                waiting, folded in the womb of non-existence,
                         for the first contraction -
        anguished cries then will split our skies
                 with starry flares,
                As we unfurl again,
                        like the first time.
        Built on the sands of a million summers
        we remember cycle after cycle,
                        infinite reflection, eternities of waiting -
        We do not see:
                mind to mind we touch, and break
                        away, and touch again,
                   softness in the star-shot dark.
     Outside our refuge a dawn breaks, golden, glorious, and without hope
                as you slip down the crest of time
                          into the west of the world.

        Dreams there are undreamt of in the splitting open of creation -
        In destruction are we born again
                         to soar and skim in the joy of new awakenings.
                Do not ask us for pity. We own none.

(Chorus VI)

                        Poor earth-bound fool.
                             You chose the slime
                           instead of stars,
                           hid from the darkness,
                        ignored the beauty of the night;
                              lost to you for ever
                        the glory in the depths
                              of mind and space -
                        Your narrow mind is starless -
                               and I am free.......

                                 Goodbye, fool.

Worlds in Transition -

        a strange light touches the air,
                  breathing silence

                          into a void where alternatives
                           hovering at the fringes of
                        are waiting...
                              Light and shadow marble the walls:
        sounds within spark
                                strange memories,
                           half-glimpsed in uncertain lights at
                              the edges of the mind.
                       The taste of blood and the smell of midnight,
                                  the texture of cold silk across the palm,
                                   and rain upon an upturned
                                        Welcome unwelcomed change,
                                 and the hard clean precision of a
                         diamond tipped drill to
                                excise decay
                                     and summon the future.


                 The darkest night carries no fear
                  and life has no boundaries to contain me.
                  Alone, yet never quite alone, I soar the stellar winds:
                  I make the galaxies my path
                  and encompass myself in quasars.
                  Starfields cluster at my wingtips,
                  Novae glow from my eyes.
                 In life, I was the tallest thing in all creation.
                   In death I stand upon the mountain of god,
                   and hold the universe within my hand.

Joules Taylor, 1979-1987. Published exe-calibre Vol IV and x-calibre Vol V (1988).

© 1999 Joules Taylor (writing as Flare)

Song for the End of the World: Part 2