Saturday, August 08, 2009

Arrow of truth

The owl: If God is death, were does he sleep?

A moment in history

Gulliver watched in horror, he felt ashamed that life was too easy, and that good people did bad things to themselves. The arrow which the spider spun came straight at him, it pierced his shield and entered the place were his soul slept. The soul died immediately, its fins coiled as it fell to the waters below. The stream carried it to a place called paradise.

In the reflection of the dolphin's eye, she saw a figure of authority, a (Jew), a fascist,* a master of death and will. The man peered at her from the single strand of silk that connected them both. As she peered back, in the capsules of time, she saw the torture, the killing of lives, the belief in the almighty. The dew condensed, the beads of water dropped into an opening called hell.

Schiller spoke never of this, he saw that he heard, in a future and a time he did not concur. The man he knew now was an abomination, he tricked his people to possess a kindred hatred. The lives affected by these crimes still wonder, they, laugh and cry measuring and asking why, what on earth did .........(Distracted - memory fails to continue this thought)**

God answered the quest, he spoke in lines of vibration, in it, the translations moved to the centre of Gulliver's brain. Hate thee my servant, go far if tombs speak in silence. God stroked feinin, he blessed his memory, his determination to write. Schiller knew something about fame, he asked the light once more, May you treasure what you possess , he lives too damned to dream of greatness.

The beads of dew fell into a pit, it ripped open the cavity where souls longed to know why. Each drop saw one's own reflection, bitterness, ancient discoveries and the scroll which a key fell into their hands. God regained himself to retract, he spun back to the place where he slept. The soul rose once again, it rotated anti-clockwise sliding off all the material possessions, a home, a van, a place to be free.

* In this self-portrait, I searched to understand a man and of his deed. Here was a character full of anger, determined to face the challenges of his native home, a place which he had supreme power and abundance. An army strong and invincible. In this feinin, I saw a liar, a troubled artist afraid of his petty deeds, a lion with a terrible strike, a soft yet gentle hand. Liberty, God her mighty, charisma, misery, soulless, harm, parasite, Give away your trust, sadly, we rejoice at misery.

** This distraction came at a moment where feinin considers it the role of devil

No comments:


Views expressed on thebookmann are not affiliated with any Art Organizations and an “Art Review” may be open to interpretation as it is an observation at face value.

Amendments to such articles if misleading or with grammatical errors shall be corrected accordingly.

All photographs, Feinin studies, accompanying quotes, articles and visual headers appearing on site are the exclusive property of Richard Bolai © 2004 - 2010 All Rights Reserved.

Any fare use is restricted without written permission