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The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world; the bird is Abraxas. 29.12.07 |

two spheres, one world--
light and dark on each other's vestiges
perpetually pushing and
violating the other's borders

the dark--
chthonic limelight
radiates off of oleaginous streets
wet from dreary rain
or the tears of a vilified patrician
sick from contagious dirt
and continual epidemic of hopelessness
the damages of weary pain
can be seen in the ramshackle faces
of ill children and macabre whores
eroded by depression.

the light--
it tries too hard:
stark, it reflects harshly
throughout the facade
of a utopian splendour
the streets are paved
with gold and happiness
the homes are built with
and there is never any
weeping god
to taint the perfection
men parade silently in ignorant bliss
garbed in the pure white gowns
that shine brighter in this unalloyed "paradise"
they look to one another--smile--
blank, la tabula rasa. no depth.

each realm aforementioned--
meaningless, shallow.
we need an Abraxas to bring them together
intersecting worlds vivisecting him
for without the circle
of the yin, the yang,
the light is pedantic
the dark is pretentious
and no men are so vile or so pure
to fit into one or the other:
no men belong in such braggadocio
but together
in our Abraxas
is a unified world
for there is no light without darkness
and no darkness without light:
god and devil cooperating
zoroastrian perfection
daoist resurrection

and this Abraxian heaven
is home to all men--
it is a marvellous redemption.
it is salvation.