Cosmological Poems of Arda by AaronAzrael  

A crystal ember, of redemption

fulfilled desire of an everlasting soul

a newly heartfelt comprehension

that gathered all to purify, bestow



my hopes in a goblet of chants

that knows no limit in its breath

if death is birth, then a deviant

of evil will crystalise like meth



ill, corrupted, emanating chills

that lure with a Demiurge passion

there are always two types of pills

ones that bring poison, others - compassion;



I live in the dream of the Ktulu

but I have awoken in the Titanlands

with my first breath I already knew you

the Sea is a movement that can revive sands



Explosions can be good for an innocent Soul

if there is a Party in the Aromatic Vessels

with neon lights impaling skies, it's all controlled

but chaos is Alchemy primordial and an ancestor.



I believe that I can fly

but gravity refrains me as a fragment

What's immortal, can it die?

if the guardians mistake a sacred moment?



Trinity, you were born today

but when was born the Evil Melkor?

The void belongs to yesterday

and I dare not open this door



I will see an eye unholy

and I want to wake a tears waterfall

what is the meaning of sorry

when the aum goes deep in the low



I have heard unexplicable twists

the primordial matter of black unmanifestus

veins with pitch black blood, thin wrists

that hold an Aura of an Uknown Animus



And it sings



Tell me why I'm waiting for a bell

to wake up my new life force energy

I'm a Legion, an Infernal well

A cluster of unborn sadistic tragedy



I am what you never see

as it has never been born

the death in empty eyes, a Devil free

of form, of name, of mourns.



Mourn now, to exist!

Alas, the Evil has no tears of crystalisation

God loves paradoxes, the breath of bliss!



A Balrog of Morgoth blows the Bauglir to unkown ascensions...



And it sings



"It has begun.The east will fall.



So shall the Kingdom of Angmar rise.



The time of the Elves is over.



The Age of the Orc has come. "

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Sacred centers are beloved portals

when activated they acquire names

so called chakras that create immortals

is the Soul created from Eternal Flames?



What does a chakra emanate

when it inverts its Crystic codes

originally pure theurgic plates

Is this what the Morgoth loathes?



The crown! Pillars are the spikes

but the silmarils do bear magic

the glory of the desacrated lives

will turn Evil into form mesopelagic



Ulmo Though Almighty Vala!

Tame your wrath and quench him water

Waters are the Mother's Life-Formating Power

Transmutation? No, forge him from the Ocean Alma Mater!



Go, thou Black practicle unmanifested

darkness is the haven of the curse

also an unbiased nest for the divine harvesting

Dark Matter fills the void with Life force first



Don't die on me, Morgoth!

consuming your Self means One True Death

I know, you shall eternally Rott

but eternity ends with your last Breath



Have you breathed under the Corona?

Have you ever cried so pure?

Evil is a cluster Non-Persona

that knows no I, just imitates to lure



when I look in the eyes of the Mala

I can see an ugly crackling worm

combining Haunts with the Caballah

desintegration that no one can become



Are you proud, thou, Morgoth?

Do you deem yourself Evil Itself?

Do you love distortion accumulating sloth?

You have died; I see this well.



You do not exist; your grin is hollow

the crown of Twists knows no face

But the silmarils are stronger than you know

once inserted in the crown, their Grace



shines bright; you cannot touch it

but they shine with Lights of Holy Grail

you rotten crystal meth, you rancid

Alchemy Go, Black Void, prevail!



Deeper than the ocean

Music of the Ainur syncs with Thee

All perversion gains a new tone

and sings unbreakably in harmony redeemed.



Sweet dreams, day seven, balance is thy nature.

Eru Iluvatar, before All, Vieni and Sync!

Morgoth's heart is cold as glacier

as Cold as Love when ceasing to sing



but holes are true unholiness

infected, rotten, gaping mouth

desolating is the loneliness

when you roam down Mordor's south..



Eru Iluvatar is Morgoth Bauglir

the one Avatar that knows no life

The Multifacets God as Spiral Whirl

the Nothingness was gifted eyes.



Once it Sees, the Breath Eternal

Declares Faithfully: "It's done!"

The Music assimilates the Infernal

and the Falling Angels are reborn.



Complete synchrony in Seventh Day.

The guilt of God is Holy Wrath

Free will and Creation's perfect play

allowed torture in the Name of Sacred Math.



Forgive me, Newborns! You old souls!

Eru Cried forevermore

I am evil, I imagined foul

theoretically inevitable are my shores



I love you dearly and kindly!

I remember all the pain!

Forgive me, I believe you blindly!

I cried out of guilt and evil in Melkor's own domain..



When God is in the Void, experiencing evil

They understand malice simply there IS

he swirled it and accumulated all its levels

I don't want to choose The Mogoth's own abyss!



I understand evil; therefore evil I am!

so I will experience it in my mind

inevitably I will transmutate the One

...

unless I go Blind.

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A mysterious wanderer

Do I dare know your name or daith,

You truly shine like conquerer

of Justice in the name of Faith.



Cross! Sword! A crown...!

Echoes of utterance beyond starlight

Beautiful cosmic gown

is swirling "Nas ne dagoyaat!, We'll Fight!



Fight in the name of Defense

and actually overwinning

we are Overlords, commence



The Epoch of Of I Amar, beginning!



I amar prestar aen,

han mathon ne nen,

han mathon ne chae



a han noston ned 'wilith.



....



He vanished. A misty story ~

and beyond.

Unreal vision, and planished

silver armor

... and a bond.



For the first time, aweing,

unknown, comming from nowhere,

I'm here, oh, crying,

marvelled at your noble glare.



Kiss me! You sing out

with a shouting tone



I'm here without



my Crown of Noldor or a Throne.



I am the King!

I have been reborn

I see your angel wings

You deeply mourn.



Mourn for me, My Lady Queen!

Mourn for Gil Galad!

Mourn for what has been!

Of him a harper, sad,



sang of realms so fair

free, and noble-born.

Like my Spirit, my heir,

He rode away; Oh horn!



Shall he ever return?

With his long sword and lance so keen?

He once again, in darkness burnt,



Is somewhat ... to be seen.



In an eye so blue and cold



in a lake with vapour icy,



he wandered, once more bold,



the same silver glacies.



His eyes - Fingon I see,

in the heart - his son - so Free...!



King of the Noldor,

mirroring his armour - stars ,

Last Free Kingdom, with an odour,



Of Quartz..!



He shall be a King no more,

but there's rumours to be spread,

that legacies forevermore

Will meet; as they have bled...!



Bleed, as you are Brave!

In the darkest of Red Eyes

to disappear is not a grave!



Fall, oh, you Emerin of Skies!

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Annatar, Annatar, you Lord of Gifts?

Do you want un dono or some poison?

Your Seprentongue silently whisps

Bring me All the Noise In.

 

Occult, Occult,

Vrakatulat.

Ash Nazg - Krimpatul.

Shte pokadza cvyat

Umri - Gurzul.

 

Oh, hello, there fair face?

Should I always call you An?

Or the feminine hipocricy stays,

always sodomised by Morgoth's plan.

 

Oh, you Elven Prince,

so melancholically assertive,

You are serious and rinse

your eyes and parts dirth of.

 

I heard a story unbegotten

A wedding day with paperwhite crowns

Thou shall Becometh Me, Once,

The Almighty Decad, essence Unforgotten.

 

You, Morgoth, wear an ocular globus

embedded as a jewel in your front

Today, the Trinity of the Nobus

becometh;

 

and uttered...

 

Acrobatic treasure hunt..!

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In a forging place of stone

black and blue like Celebrimbor's eyes

I smell mysterious cologne

and steel clattering; soul-wise.

 

Aule, mindblown, observes

a new alchemic process;

Mairon's blood swirls

through a crystal in the chest to fluoresce.

 

Annektar's spirit being forged

with Christic energy never before seen;

shall it go boring, as a lore?

No it shapeshifts; activate the lien.

 

Immunity, but also Free Will.

Has another one bettered His Creator?

As even Aule lost it, ill,

he thought that Mairon was eternal traitor.

 

But Celebrimbor, as Feanor's heart pulsates,

is genetically predisposed;

It is not that the rings were baits,

he did it out of pure desire to own those.

 

Yes, I saw him walking so assertive,

confident and strongly proud,

He conveyed to me Vilya so furtive,

was it Annatar or Noldor Lord?

 

Yes, the Elve shall manifest.

As Sauron won't fall to doom;

yes a doom but epic; Black Speechy at best;

You shall give it but to whom?

 

Does she ever keep the secrecy?

Or is she the secret itself?

An Elve is an Elve - so pretty full of decency!

Explode and Die in flames, New Self!

 

The result is Unknown and this is the point

the Abundant Universe of Forms

It shall never disappoint!

Supreme alchemy - Eternal Warns!

 

Sing for me, as even the Allfather

had lost hope for his spirit's survival

yet Always full of Faith; so gather,

Sauron, you bloody rival!

 

I simply Walked into Mordor.

Crushed the Gate with Atomic Waves

Then I Swirled Sauron, Between middle Earth's borders,

Creation - Go !, and Forge Ablaze!

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Behind an arc with glowing curtains

a dove is flying, tired wings,

where you are He is uncertain

you girl with dress so red, that sings.



when the ships emit a spark

eyes of ghosts in the ocean's domain

would they consider it dark

to turn the mermaid into foam of pain



would be great for their low honor

drapery so torn by claws, alienly fey,

it's like sorrowful news spread by a caller;

yet fashionably stony graves just weigh.



the eyelids are closing, so dozy,

they are sweet like honey of gold.

burning out so cozy

like they want to die before they're old.



three stars in a crown so new

like a mirror Einaledge

Above them flies a snowy owl

with a trail of yearning pledge.



as there isn't anything more fair

than a remorseful young man so sad

with raven feathers in his lively hair

married to his dreams, so glad.



he didn't know how he got immersed

in fixated passion to sink a brothered ship

the lights of two trees-temples dispersed

drinking water from the prince's tears; drip



to turn into opals,

that shall, from the dark corona

observe him as a cathedral,

purebloodness coolly waiting with aroma,



as they're silmarils, untouched by killers,

but not as crystals

~ in his eyes that are souls.



they are portal mightily defending pillars.



The prince is silent and cries, observing his goals.

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A tender smile on a strong face

with a cheekbone so acute

Are you reconsidering your ways,

now that the past weighs down your route?



An Elve has a tender heart,

beauty and fine scenery define him,

even when pride burns as art,

and corrupts his intentions within.



I like it, how innocence blushes

healing your cheeks of a child;

I want to return home, it pushes

me, and I go desperately wild....



Have you ever abandoned a woman?

A wife even, that bore you kids?

Did you swear an oath to your adolescent men,

your kin - destroyed - purity it needs.



Maglor sings at the seaside

And let him be gifted with God power;

actually God's power does hide

inside each soul that unleashes; the hour



has come. Oh, Elbereth!

Let Manwe's Light protect our Faiths!

Our bravery always lets

Lack of disbelief to stand its grace...!



Once Sauron sung to incite

disrespect of the Almighty Power

Holy and Tender inside,

The Light Trone Naive is Not; Our



Lord that knows Mercy and Forgiveness.

We shouldn't feel guilty or let go of our way

to instill purity and respect as to whitness

how every starlight becomes brighter each day...



Feanor, oh Crafter!

You talented with wisdom Royalty!

Unleash your childish laughter

remember the origin of loyalty!



As there is One Rule to Keep them All

One Rule for Each Elve that Exists

Never Betray a Brother of Kin, as it shall enthral

sinchrony to become unenchantingly forgetful of remiss....



Love me under the starry night

on snow as white and shiny as your soul

Let your Fire become Pure Light...

May your Eyes never get Low!



Not Low as an earthquake

or the witchhouse sounds of Creation

But it is said that you shall wake,

regain your Arisoticracy through new chelations...



If I could give you a gift

I would draw a card of remembrance

for the ships you've drowned so swift,

believing in the Purity of Silmarils without ascendance...



You believed that Varda did protect them?

Yes, she did - she put a shield

But their Souls communicate with you and then

from inside they your emanations wield....



So much desacration,

So much sorrow and pain...

Could it be that damnation

leaked inside from their inner domain?



So I will crown you now, you firstborn Son!

Of Finwe's House, a genius;

Let them be purified with your tears pouring down...

Glass pigmented soul selenius!



I will sing in Noldor speech

let it tenderly affect my mouth

so it can naturally come out as to teach



us of the New Ways that are so Explosively Couth!



I heard you ended your life path

by explosion so abruptive and demostrative

Let generations sing of Feanor's loving Wrath!



For your eternal choices I deeply Grieve!



Oh Elvenson, you are a Legend

and Today - I wonder where you are

I just know you decipher it all, but vengence

is an equal of War.



Ascend, my Love!

And remember the Queen's bidding

NEVER hurt your Kin of Dove!

But it shall not be a law forbidding...

It shall be a feeling from within and above...



While we dance, we started swirling

and the Sky got lost in our Dreams

So Creation exquisitly twirling

shall create Silmaril Moonbeams...



"Aia María quanta Eruanno

Hail Mary, full of grace



i Héru aselyë

the Lord is with thee



aistana elyë imíca nísi

blessed art thou amongst women



ar aistana i yávë mónalyo Yésus.

and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus.



Airë María Eruo ontaril

Holy Mary, Mother of God



á hyamë rámen úcarindor

pray for us sinners



sí ar lúmessë ya firuvammë: násië.

now and at the hour of our death: Amen!"

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Yavanna washes her hair

with a conch that sparkles multicoloured,

and the Sorrow of Melian is musing there,

in Valinor's Gardens for Love of Her Lover.



She surpassed them all with Beauty

and Wisdom of Her Inner Third Eye

An unknown little child's unachievable dream soothed,

befriended him, creating skies.



You know how to act the Goddess, Lady!

Love worthy to capture time in stillness,

spellbound in visions of Amour ~ "Zaydi..."

As we know, the Light Land the shadow illness



cures, when living it out

in the magical world of your manifested dreams,

and Melian knew it all, without

even waiting for the Hour to Come with Hymns.



"Swift tidings, and a world changing,

No Man Shall Cross and Enter Doriath,

The echoes reached her, without an ending,

a healing blush sprung from her cheeks' path.



"Don't worry, Melian" ~ An innocent girl

approaches her from astral projections;

This is not the end of the World,

and she Looked in her Eyes with reflections...



Melian is One with Faith...

And Her Love will be Immortaly Young.

Nobly she saw a cloack over the Wraith,

and She Said: " This song shall be sung



even when the Middle Earth Has changed

And this happened as of Urantia's Today of December

She observed the Show and suddently in range

she perceived His Presence ~ oh, Elu Thingol Remembers!

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A starry ruler observes with pride

from a fortress of the North that shines

but a half-pale shadow so black as a tide

slides on his chin so bountiful on the outlines,

 

without being able to enter inside him

through his shell, impenetrable Mithril,

when a helmet he puts on, skyly brimmed

he glistens as the gleams of angels' will.

 

Oh, but beyond the plane of Ard-Galen,

the Lord of Murk lurks and hides,

where it won't ever be bright - in his den.

 

Twilight under chilly and spellbouding stars;

Noldor hills are fortified;

Thangorodrim's places so mysterious and far,

winter night was petrified.

 

The elves faced what they did

reject so fervently even;

as they Death allowed not to bid

to enter their thoughts, they believed in

 

a truce so brightly resounding;

that their immortality a fellowship is,

they were created to be surrounding

their realms with honour, beauty, to kiss

 

with youth eternal their wise hearts

every sincere notion or deed;

they are also brave, when fighting wars

 

dignity shall they retain, so freed.

 

Yet ignorance so doozy sweet

dimming their elven eyes of co-creators

is just an omen for hidden deceit

before being forced to face warfare;

instead of smelling atars.

 

Yes, I see that the discord

always came from the borders

Sauron and Morgoth the Lord

are pest, nesting in spider webs;

arming Orc orders.

 

The Feanor family branch opposed;

as it was ever so haughty, self-convinced,

only Angrod and Aegnor did suppose

so clearly what shadows planned to mince.

 

As their Lands so Fair

fronted Thangorodrim so dangerous,

they were horrified by this lair,

a premonition, clenching their hearts -

so canorous.

 

Yet Morgoth finally attacked;

he spurred rivers out of flames and Balrogs,

he stormed so unexpected and pitch black,

and Elven ones did suddenly perceive the odds.

 

Too many of the Noldor so beauteous,

did not manage to escape so energetic,

even their swifty and merciful legs didn't cope with those

lava dense gushes as to outrun; they burnt aesthetic.

 

The Fourth Battle Great,

foretold by a winter of music melancholic,

was an insight of Fate

for goodness unachieved initally, metabolic.

 

Dagor Bragollach, oh, combat so epic!

The enemy's army is approaching near;

they conquered the fortress High of this epoch

and the Noldors they gutted and cut their ears.

 

The action did not calm down;

but Morgoth finally withdrew and dispersed;

snowdrops in the hairs and in the crown;

the hellish energy of Glaurung so cursed,

 

a dragon, originator, that

spews fire and sulfur out of its maw,

and the High elves agonised so bad,

sent to Mandos' Halls to wait for the shieldless one ~ at dawn.

 

Doriath sheltered some survived ones,

Thingol gave them support and cures,

others to Osiriand so forestal ran,

even beyond in the wasteland obscure.

 

The Sons of Fingolfin, valiant heirs,

weren't saved; they died in the war;

Fingon and his father acquired mortified air,

as they were defeated; and lost their Family core.

 

The war was ever worsening,

even for Feanor's sons,

the regions of elves were burning,

holy lands ruined to ashy sands,

 

all was engulfed - oh, passage of Aglon,

the noble elves reatreated and hid,

whoever used a horse, whoever tried to run,

Fingolfin has heard they even Dortonion undid.

 

Then he was overtaken by fury,

honour's pride that burns so high,

due to Morgoth the Enemy he had to bury

his kin and family, the desecrated wives.

 

An impetus of royal soul

made him challenge the King of Evil

in his own domain so foul,

Morgoth heard the roar and felt so feeble

in the face of the King's growl.

 

Fingolfin started approaching him,

just like the storm of dust in the hooves of Rochallor,

the stallion brave and Morgoth so grim

did not dear move, as he was terrified to cross the door.

 

Fingolfin did at last stand

before the gates of Angband black and caged,

he uttered "You King of Cowards in this Land!"

and Morgoth heard him, got enraged.

 

So Bauglir got outside as an Ogre,

tall as a Giant, armoured in black,

Fingolfin attacked him, therefore

he would either win, or get dreadfully smacked.

 

Fingolfin started jumping around,

so invisible and so elusive,

Morgoth was swinging Grond so bound,

the Hammer of the Underwold Abusive.

 

Deep wounds did the Evil one get,

his leg got crippled ' forevermore '

exhaused he unleashed Ground and it was said

that he Hit the King and turned him into gore...!

 

So sadistic and arrogant

Morgoth, with a heavy inhumane foot

stepped on his head and his pineal gland,

so sacred he turned into twigs of blood.

 

The whole Middle Earth and Beyond

echoed with torn soul, as a howler,

all Elves felt that happened by Grond,

the most dignified king was dead, outpowered.

 

Never in the times to come so hurting

songs wouldn't honour his memory,

as this is too heavy a burden,

it killed even mourns of emory.

 

So this is how Fingolfin died.

The most noble and brave among all

Noldors, a King so Dignified

but Torondor of Manwe Swished its wings and he shall

 

grab the corpse in process of defiling,

it carried him to a cliff so unreachably up,

with view to Gondolin, with reconciling

influence and breaths held before the air at the top.

 

Thurgon travelled there out of the duty of a son

he turned the place into a hillock

so the limping Morgoth wouldn't dare spread his sound

even with his thoughts, as it's a shock

 

what a power emanated is

from the grave of Fingolfin beloved;

secret reflections scatter bliss...

The memorial stands there so proud of;

 

And everyone shall always his Presence Seek and Miss.

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As Morgoth was landing high,  

from snowy fortress reigns,  

above Angbands welled-black starry sky,  

he silent does remain...  



and he starts singing bliss.....  

from the top of his dreams  

on a pike, where it raining is  

with mysteriosly shining gleams  



and it goes...:  

 

"I forgot that I might see  

So many beautiful things  

I forgot that I might need  

To find out what life could be  

 

Beautiful things  

 

Take this happy ending away  

It's all the same  

God won't waste this simplicity  

On possibility  

Get me up, wake me up, dreams are filling  

This trace of blame  

Frozen still I thought I could stop  

Now who's gonna wait?  

So many beautiful things  

So many beautiful things  

 

Now what do I do?  

Can I change my mind?  

Did I think things through?  

It was once my life  

It was my life at one time" (quote from BXVUTIFUL THINGS - MYSTXRIVL)  

 

So he flies away from there  

as a vampire pouring blood  

from his theeth as holy essence; flair,  

his floating mantle floods  

 

the region with icy snow  

falling stars from his cosmic cloak  

that is; who could ever know  

that the Earth would kindly soak  

 

in a very thin and gentle layer  

where he instilled;  

wishes and promises fair,  

as a God good-willed...  

 

Then he reaches the end  

of the Angband lonely field  

and it above the ground went,  

teleported itself to wield  

 

the upper terrain so lifeless  

in the first sign of new maintaining  

arrangments of Middle Earth's nest  

dimensions like stairs changing.  

 

Where synchronicity does run  

between the time corridors,  

where space can grow in shunned  

isles, or rivers or clusters... and doors.  

 

So he finds himself before  

a surprising portal that opens  

that leads to the ancient lore  

somethig unbelievable happens.  

 

He enters and feels inspired  

as to how empty it is  

void of Middle Earth's past shires  

and history so kissed.  

 

He feels it starts anew  

but this time Eru sings along  

He is the First Sound, the wheel  

and here goes the song..:  

 

"Thou shalt have no other Gods  

Before me  

Estas volando (despertad)  

Estas volando  

Estas volando (despertad)  

Estas volando  

And God said, let there be light, and there was light  

God called, the light day  

And the darkness, he called night  

The power, and, the glory...  

Glory, glory, glory  

Despertad, despertad, despertad, despertad, despertad...  

Thou shalt have no other Gods, Before me  

Estas volando  

Estas volando " - Shinnobu "Of Return to Mysticism"  

 

Immediately the song shapes  

his Utterance of Understanding,  

what does it Mean to create  

as the First Willing so Fate-ing.  

 

Yes, another God indeed,  

you shall not have ~ before me;  

as a Local Son to bid  

as Highest First, Fathering Thee.  

 

What did it feel for blackened malice  

that dwelled in the void of chaos  

that is mixed with the shadow chalice  

... indeed for the Unbegotten's clause?  

 

When you believe that the Flame Eternal  

is somewhere nowhere to be found  

outside the Inner Spark of Whirpools  

that is also sounds...  

 

The void, of Morgoth dear,  

is the primary unmanifested,  

the first tissue, so hear,  

shall it realy be infested?  

 

Did you truly understand  

what is that does make you God?  

It is respect for lower life when  

you can abuse, but it is thought  

 

that it shall never be reached  

until you embrace humble compassion;  

even if it is the blackest pitch,  

remember the Ghosts' loneliness ashened  

 

before, when He resided there  

as the All that Unfathered is  

where you can create life to share  

with equals the immortal bliss...!  

 

And when you finally hear  

what you could be destined to be;  

the depth of melancholic nights, so dear,  

So the More Goth cathedrals you see..!  

 

Did you feel it when you uttered  

"Let there be Light"  

that it is not equal for battles shattered  

it's not about the dual fight  

 

day and night are just an expression of  

what was more compressed before;  

even united spiritual forms are, thereof,  

already separated from the core....  

 

Did you feel the despair  

and hope one having reached it  

the Creating Flame, so dare  

be a God of Forms, Unique With  

 

Your own experience gathered;  

after You swirled under the crown  

the divinity that was fathered  

in Eru's first attempt, oh fragment son...  

 

Now that the crimes weigh down  

your burdened heavy soul  

You just blissfuly shine and wow  

to the New Chrystic slow  

 

vibration of pitched down sounds  

homogenous and so alive and causating,  

the Ainur and the other ones  

start singing along .. The Second Music of Creation!

 

"Ever since he can remember people have died in his good name

Long before that September

Long before hijacking planes

He's lost the will he can't decide

He doesn't know who's right or wrong

But there's one thing that he's sure of this has been going on too long" - BL▲CK CEILING - Girl Money

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My dear.... my beloved,

Light of the Almighty Source,

A Life Giving Dream of

Protection, as it is more than a Force.



Can you imagine captivations

in Morgoth's antilight den that wrings

when you lost all hope in damnation,

salvation is all you awe, for it welfare brings.



Living on an isolated plane..

where all the gore is normalised

wars are means of winning, bane

is considered to be civilised....



But when you die, what happens?

Oh, the bliss of Multisphered Shires

You realise what holiness is, dark ends

are also unmanifested; eternal is the fire.



Laurelin, Thelperion!

Bringers of the Life!

You prepared for celebrations so merry, on

a day that Triumps the Skies.



Fruits, fragrance and music,

abundance, gratitude and smiles,

cherries, apples and fluids

transcendentally communicating while



everyone was cheerfully preparing

to manifest a new good will

as sacred as the hearts of those caring

having faith in the Plan so Absolute, it thrills.



Everyone is merriest;

only noble souls in harmony, egregore,

floating around in God itself - this fest

was meant to be unison but ... suddenly... an Error!



Ezellohar, the Trees you nourished!

But Melkor summoned himself - as ancient as the Warps,

he speared the holiness, so hellishly gorish,

AntiMetatronic Flower sucked to feed his corpse.



Sight, sound, and will, usually agile.

It shattered them all, as they lost.

The Light was desacrated ... so fragile..

The Void was occupied by a Parasite host!



No, No, NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Orome and Tulkas' mission failed

warrios of light, where did you gooo??

When your hopes get shattered, and THEY HAIL???



DO you know what it is like

to be responsible for the divine protection,

so the Holiest realm, before it could sprout,

like a child was murdered; for resurrections.



I.... ohh..ohh mmyy...

whh-h-at happened? I ...

why..

why could I not defend?



Tears of desolation, so damn polite...



Muhaha.

...

Morgoth grinned.



"Your trees -

they had  to meet

their end !"

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Peaceful races, gullible minds,

full of innermost desires;

playing with whatever He finds

in their soul material, his magnifiers



have never missed a spot;

His Crown of Deceit carries burden,

Fall in my hands, innocent thoughts,

I'll plant there vices, they'll emerge in



your behaviour and beliefs...

you will act out of evil whims,

My sound twists, it upheaves,

it lures, inverting Holy Hymns.



Feanor, oh Feanor Dear,

who are full of disdain for me,

you don't listen, so will you hear?

Your own Hatred I shall Be.



Your ear will become a portal,

host of worms invisible of doubt and sin,

you will lose your trust in brothered, and mortals

will also be my Key to the Distrust Within.



I'm lost in the visions of AntiTwists,

alas, I have affinity to Pure Emanations,

and I ... shall spread rumours, my gifts

are Discord and War for the Kin... I'm so patient.



Ancient Evil dawns upon you,

Feanor, the Eldest son Successor,

Fingolfin, Tirion you shall come to lose,

Elves, For You the Mortals are Oppressors.



Preferred by the Valar they Are, oh Immortals.

They shall inherit Middle Earth's domain...

Thus, ... be Lifted from your Hearts, your Centred Morals!



Commence... Unrest of the Noldor Disdained!

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Silently, she would remember a cry

in lands unseen and not foretold

would she know how she would die

or she sought shelter in the cold?



Awaking in a state of knowledge

where a device undying

will not withstand its pledge

because it would be lying.



So Let it Be a Law of Voice

the Absolutness in the Word

Intent when it's the Noise

cannot kill him, or hurt



the Flame Impereshable, or the Phoenix,

the being that observed him silent,

so he made un dono* for it's ennex*

and the Vedic Way is Violent.



Yes, but ayuraveda is a healing

so it does depend on the Intent

behind the I when uttering its dealings

and Anger downfall-wards went.



Oh. So I am threatened?

Naive a bit and full of Love.

But Let This Word be a Willed Good End.

This is the Heart of the Dove.



A girl is looking with remorse,

unknowing how she passively agressive

started the Mala ways endorse

without resistance, with agreement oppressive.



How could she hurt a fellowed Heart?

Even Melkor was unbiased

looking from aside, neutral, smart,

understanding the Phoenix, liaised.



I forgive you not, he Uttered.

But God love he now did.

The Akuma Cursed Flame shuttered

for it Shall Not be Let UnHid.



Devine and Device, interesting words

Do they ever combine with each other?

For the True Chrystic emanation sure's

crafted for Life's protection, when bothered.



To be able to emit good and bad

but not as mirroring reactions

but to Unite what initially Had

been the problem of the Fractions.



Fractions versus Fragmentation.

One is like the Matrix - multiplied.

The other gathers them all in creation,

ablation is the Evil Craft disguised.



Searching the fourth AllDivinity,

the first one that launched the Adamantine,

the One that Relatively was the Trinity

and it will not get to it upon time.



Oh Why do I dear join in!

When I want to protect you and thank you?

Encourage your humble withins,

that victoriously Save our Same Dues!



I thank you... I thank...

This is how it Will Be...

I thank for it's Just a Manque...

But I Thank for Life's Eternity!

*the name Ennex attracts amiability, forthrightness and dedication.

*un dono - Italian for a gift

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How deep is Mordor's South?

From beyond the Blackened Skies

Elephants, thunder and drums of sabaoth

They carried A Priestess High.



Rumours had been spreading

of a new emanation at the world's end

She appeared, carried, with golden beddings

Hair with candles lit at their bottom to transcend.



Oh, Lady Bat Bayan!

She entered Angband where Morgoth nested;

You are the One!

She pointed him and manifested



with a lazer explosion

on the altar wall

An Alien Elohim of the implosion

got embedded, started with a drawl;



Electronic Robotic voices

that became alive in Fragmentation

The Human Multifacet noises

will lead to eternal Breath of Augmentation...



Eru Iluvatar, Alive!

Like Tibet's hidden Avatars

Gods Hybernating to Dive

in the Stars and Trips and... Wars...?

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Blacksmith-casted reactional spells,

chemical behaviour of elements metallic;

clatter, flames and melting smell,

compounds and alloys, mixed and graphic.

 

Ferrous iron, as black as His Soul,

non-ferrous coloured low weight standards,

Eol The Elf, He Did Quite Know,

how to Yield this Science's hazards.

 

He forged shining dark Galvorn,

a metal inspired by Dwarven friends,

hard as their steel but malleable, worn

as suit of armour in the Woodland realms.

 

Nan Elmoth, oh fairytale shadowed,

a forest in Beleriand the East,

for it somewhat peacefully gathered

tranquil enchantments, powerful, at rest.

 

Aredhel, oh Fair Beauty!

Third Child of Noldors' Fingolfin,

to his Marrow you soothed

Eol, as he grew fond of you within.

 

A heart of mirk and of shadows,

as forestal and silent as the wood's trees,

he cast a spell that was aglow

to captivate your radiance, as the breeze

 

would guide your presence always

to the same labyrinth's end

the Lost girl wouldn't find her boys

Glorfindel, Ecthelion, Egalmoth - the band;

 

but she would wander and roam,

each pathway twisted in curves,

leading her only to her future home...

for He secretly Lures.

 

This is how she Married Him -

Eol the Elf, the Dark,

a Child she bore, her Maeglin,

her healthy son, her spark.

 

But she started to harbour

a lingering and sad sensation

for she missed with ardour

the brothers left behind; impatient...

 

So they waited for the Tall and Dark

to go on a new quest unknown

and on an adventure they embarked...

Maeglin escorted her; Disowned

 

was he when his Father discovered

what a treachery he had committed

he pursued them, so burnt and bothered,

for his Son his Wife had evicted.

 

Eol was known for his Javelin Spears

He tried to aim at his son

but his mother threw herself and it Pierced

her ... She died from her Wound.

 

This is the glorious story

of a bewitched and valiant Elf

Yet.. Did he ever feel Sorry

for Murdering his Family ...Himself?

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Suddenly, a vision of Age First

Amid the vastness of the time

after Arwen's tears burst

into the river that entwined

 

All the experiences felt there,

the Creation of Ea's within,

all the glory honoured, fair,

for All dignified have been.

 

The 144 Elven Ones

the number of Achievement

for it's About their Dance

when they Separate Went

 

When the Ainur Avatars

launched their Formating Design

and Chose the Veil of the Stars

to Offuscate as to Entwine.

 

Yes, they were good at Cosmic Truths,

and they had a Promise Golden,

their Utter Success deeply soothes

their Tears for the Evil Unfolding....

 

What a blessing, for it was rumoured

that a Vision of Nan Elmoth

was somewhere seen as ancient roamer

and a Tower Crafting God.

 

Clenching, clattering and lots of lava,

sparkling, glowing and the metal

Pumping Forgery in vena cava

Deus Faber, fused, dissolving, never letal

 

merged together when molten

myth creating, magic alive ~

...but you need to be bold and

... Next time, please protect your wife.

 

Barahir and Bregolas,

I see your Immortal Flame,

Mortals in Arda will eventually Last,

a new teaching of marvels came.

 

For it is always the Achievement,

of the Absolute that's Relative,

and it's the New Middle Earth Sacrament.

New form of Immortality's imperative.

 

They shall be respawned by Namo Mandos,

in the Halls of Waitings echoed the Bells,

and the Family that Wandered in this Source

sought each other like new Selves.

 

What an amusement... shall I see you?

Each and everyone did think

I miss you ... I terribly miss it, to be you,

as it's the HOUR TO SYNCH

 

In a new dance of Creation,

the Second Music of them All,

Melkor twisted his bettered Version...

followed by a flood, rainfall...

 

Oh, He Sings and Shows the Secrets

of the Deities that were so Veiled

The Absolute is the One; His Frequence

can be both Nothing and detailed.

 

Sing, Sing, oh Melkor...

Who Rises in Might.

It swirls, Your Core.

 

... Yes.  It's a beautiful Sight.

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Fair radiance and curly tresses,

lips as juicy as exotic peach,

Maeglin's heart silently caresses

a desire that would turn to siege....



Pure infatuation it is called;

but what a cursed fate indeed,

lineage is said to forestall

inbreeding despite Love's needs...



"Would you ever be capable?"

Somber insight leaks in...

To create a family, a cradle...

there's darkness in between.



No, what resentful disdaign

would turn this frustration in vengeance

and dominating stimulus vain

to possess her for himself's dependance...



Who knows what truly did Idril

think of her Cousin's intentions

but it is said, she on purpose, at will,

avoided his malevolent tension...



But it is as true as an Elven Heart,

even if a Dark One you are,

True was His Admiration from the Start,

but Fate was in the way, bizarre.



To observe from aside, dimmed,

damp Soul tears are soil for Malice,

it was not merely a Whim;

But Rather, Real Love as a Chalice.



Eol's heritage is hard enough, anyways;

yet alone to compete with a human...

Maeglin shall care for her each and every day...

until Existance's over and beyond its blooming...



Silent at his father's death sentence.

Who knows what He truly felt;

it was rather an understanding presence,

for he has always dealt



with Eol's possessive manners

until he developed them himself

but proud are Elven Banners...

"To Hell with Tuor from an Elf!"



Oh, this dreaded mortal,

exuding such beautiful air,

how did he cross this portal

"to take my dearest he dared!"



I disappeared for a while

in Morgoth's dens unheard of

and I returned with a strange smile

and appeance changed, unsoft.



This strange sparkle in the eyes

and wicked bloodline so enchanted

To her I dedicate my skies,

who knows what's been granted



in the lands hidden from the Light

to accentuate this dreaded feelings,

this horrible envied greedy sight

of Tuor and Idril's wedding rings...



I would kill absolutely anyone

even Earendil, Idril's merriest boy,

the son of Tuor shall be done,

they stood in my Way, and it annoys..



But what does Maeglin see as he falls,

His Life scenes run before his eyes,

struck down Gondolin's walls

Idril in All His Love... Forever he cries ~



He cries, the purest of tears,

this was incestious - but accidentally!

His Spirit - Elven, Fierce;

The Fire consumed him mentally...



This is the surveiling story

of a yearning unfulfilled...



And I am sorry... I'm so sorry.



"Idril, it's just the Way you Thrill!"

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Surely, it was the Evil Core

that the Lord of Gifts so furtive

embedded in the ring - the door

to the AntiMetatronic dirt of



Everything that is unholy;

for He knew that it's the power

chimeric of the offerings of nucleoli

that can confuse a being, showered



not by the Promised Abundance

but with Reeking Excrement Acid

immaculate plan, for all the bundles

of inversion gather essences, for ashes



infernal of the vampirism

for Sauron did utter damned

that he despised Varda's animism

he spitted on her Light; Be banned!



Yes, God's Light is Absolute;

But I suffered demonic possession

My martyrdom and insights fruit

Chrystic power of Purity's protection...



Oh, I sing Tinnitus

for I somewhat awe it as well

I make all your sigils ubiquitous

manifest them through this well



of resentment of the succubus

sucking all to feed with blood

disguised as jewels or stimulus

... but this Truth is brute.



I activated the inverted Flower

of Life as to let out the diabolic

so it could be afterwards showered

by the Elven essence that you vitriolic



locked as the Alphabet Refined

of the Elven Immortality of Souls

for you all that eats away entwined

in its Beauty to emit ugly ghouls...



We all know what you wanted,

Annatar, you Serpentongue,

you managed it, as you enchanted

abundance adamantine and unsung



its divine alchemic powers...

then to unleash the portal to Hell...

I know, you intended the Hour

of holes to destroy Life itself...



But, Sauron, oh Sauron,

I love how your music sounds,

so I will sing all your tones

mirroring your face, your bounds.



May Fifth Dawn Brigthen Your Mouth

this Evil Creature Symbolic

that I saw in Mordor's South

the key to rotten teeth of Moloch



then a Holy Symbol irrevocable

shall seal forever the Ring's hole

after it's been emptied of all vocals

that Sauron crafted in the One whole.



On the very same stone it was crafted,

that's where it can be undone, reversed...

not destroyed, for this is how the flower shafted

can activate its opposite of sucking curse...



There I transmutated your magic,

after living your very intention,

turning it to Chrystic codes pelagic

and then I seal it for prevention.



What shall I do next?

I shall Free Celebrimbor's possessive "I"

as a Feanorian hexed

but nonetheless an Elve of Virtues and of Holy Eyes.



Let his true Elven essence inundate

the Precious Ring to Rule them All

Shape itself in the inscription and create

defense of pure Regained Elven Walls



This is how the claimed script

so Holy of the Elven kin

shall become an army that encrypts

the Eternal Protection Within!



"One Ring to rule them all,

One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all

and in the darkness bind them.



One Ring to Burn intestines,

One Ring to incite,

One Ring to be Destined

the evil darkness to delight.



One Ring is Gathered

One Ring is Transposed

The One Ring has Fathered

the Cure for All the Necrosed.



The One Ring is fair,

The One Ring is of Snow...

One Ring... You shall forevermore Bear...

the One's Perfection Unknown!"

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I was roaming in the sky,

searching for my memory,

when I saw serious eyes,

furrowed eyebrows cleverly



remided me of a phrase simple,

it's called exactly eagle vision,

that in sapients I praise, I twinkle,

for responsibilities divine and intuition...



I heard the Manwe song,

The Ainurs' Eldest One,

the Chief of Instruments belongs

to countering immaculate, the plan,



that unveils slowly but steady,

Melkor caused discord,

but someday Unity'll be ready,

compassionate at core.



You, the Ruler of Arda,

glow with Radiance so gentle,

kind as the heart of Varda,

your twin flame elemental...



You are so good at your cord,

that you initially deemed

Melkor as sick with ilness stored,

you believed him, as you dream



that his contrition is real,

foretold to manifest...

encaptivated, Melkor kneeled....

I saw God's Triunal light so blessed



to be emitted with wisdom,

the secrets of a God Creator

and yes... your holy kingdom -

is a righteous legislator.



When I look at your Icon,

I feel a desire to be purified,

my innocence does ligthen,

controlled by healing sights...



I love you, dear Manwe - I do plead.

You .. are pure and an ideal.

Please, don't ever breed

with those who try to steal



your essence ~ angel's blueprint;

like Arien, the Lady that's Pristine.



Your fragrance - healthy mint.



Yes.



Lord Manwe knows no sin...

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Underneath a clouded sky

where no one ever lies

what does Light deny

it accepts humbly and tries



not to feel so broken

in the heart, as he was hurt

by cutting trees so smoken

as Valinor was now injured.



"Have you ever p-protected?"

he gently uttered as a bunny-

bird that was neglected;

He would expect the love so honey



to flow in his Creations;

unbreakable and ever lively

touched by damnations?

What the reason might be?



I thought... life is eternal.

But Life eternal is.

Just some pretty external

vision so swift



upon the veil of forgetting

when all cushioned is

and the Sword so Absolute is trieting

the Sound Clattered with Bliss



as it could be never broken;

Christic is the Light...

and so, it is spoken

that it shall ignite forever Bright...



There Manwe sees s silhouette

the brighterst of all Stars

among the nebulae septet

that Knew Intended Wars.



"What is the verb for the burning of the Fire?

That Imperishable is

So Mighty that all Dires

is capable to resist?"



"UTTERMOST COMBUSTION!"

Merikhene echoes

The Perfect Solution's Adjustment...

The Will of The Decad



"This flame is immortal!

This is the Absolute Sword!

And all accursed portals

cannot Undo the Word!"

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"Sauron?" I asked in doubt,

as it doubt has always been;

my intestines bloody shout

that there's one thing I've seen



in the Ring that you've inserted

One disgusting part of yourself

the essence of a girl that's perverted

but not In May Way, you shadowing elf.



It is everything that ruins my world

one chemical substance so girly

it just wants to smash me and hurt

my alchemy of everything - so surely.



I don't want to change you at all.

Not to purify you, or serious make your doom.

I can see behind your eyes without

sanity needed, you Orgullochchazar Kazadum.



I used to stare behind monstrosity blinding,

Maia wisdom and beyond your tongue.

Khajazgur drumblak drogoth-a ~shining

All Seeing Eye that gathered it, unsung.



But as I was wondering, in awe,

how you are always a step ahead,

I saw in the left a newly found law,

Maria's pressuring influence that spreads.



And I wonder... I wonder...

Without worrying about your ring's unreal blurs...

will our Own Love crack asunder...

Oh, Precious Sauron, shall I lose you - to her?

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"Fingon, why you're ill?"

I whispered, caring for his health.

Did I sense a shadow's chills,

for it silently and moistly dwelt...



I always sensed this faithful hope,

the Finwe house was prior to the Ring,

the Eternal Now ends as a suicide rope?

But Fingon's blessed, angelic wings...



No, Time leaks everywhere ~

forward and backwards as a curse ~

I don't want to see you, elve, there...

where Sauron would do the worst.



Please immediately heal.

Right before my eyes...

It may be the empirical will.

Before me... Fingon dies?



It has occurred to me, unnerved,

for the first dreaded time,

what it truly meant to them to observe

how I was possessed in the crime...



How did it feel, Azrael?

To see every single image of decay...

It is not just my mind but hell,

meant to sync with the eternal play...



"Piss on Varda's Light" he uttered,

Sauron, but now I'll cheer you up.

"Piss then on", I jiggled, suffered,

it will help us Absolutely fill the Cup



of Grails with the disgusting fire

that carried your passionate dream

so maybe next time.. your desire

to destroy her, will help her gleam.



"Piss all over and beyond"

"Maybe your Acid is needed"

"Without this piss the bond

can it be linked? It bleeded."



"I love the Ring for what it is"

"But Varda is truly fragile and tender"

"So Let it be God's will ... and your piss

can Elochimly express itself, as a blender."



I have seen your Eye...

gathering all pieces in the One

I have done the same, yet I cried

and our movements are a swirling dance.



Celebrimbor absolutely knew

what you inserted in the ring.

I have the faith in this cursed wheel

that the Key of Enoch sings.



So if I make you laugh so innocent,

using your brutality as jokes,

maybe we'll have a moment of dissonance,

where we are friends, you hoax.



You are definitely and indeed,

the most renowned blacksmith,

Do you like smoking weed?

And Is Morgoth a dark Sith?



While I keep marvelling

how you could have created

something so perfect and targeting,

I feel a presence ablated



A dark monster that hid

all his evil intentions from me,

so I could see his purity amid

the whilpool of both that he can be.



Morgoth is seeing before him

a sweet and juicy child

"Fingolfin... you hurt my limb"

"I am aware of the speech reviled."



"Close your eyes, so you can not..."

He started saying but he stopped,

she turned around, in the form of Morgoth

and his intentions mirrored, swapped.



He smiled, bit soothed.

As a carnivour of Hell

She knows perfectly what's rooted

inside of myself where I dwell.



"God's Absolute and Relative"

she answered, wondering below the veil

who she was, as this wild narrative

did not reveal her background, but they'll



surely meet her someday.

Quarantined Urantia is prior to the wormhole.

"Lesno e da borish se s zlodei"

Someday you'll meet the Eye in Real Life, doll!



She suddenly screamed,

As she got carried away.

Evil beautiful seemed

but Fingon's ill, it's not okay.



So she ran fast, as fast as she could

to find her way back to his causal body

and she would hug him and kiss him and soothe...

whathever ilness is torturing him, naughty.



All ilnesses are also living beings

she remembered a teaching of yore

so don't mean to destroy its beginnings

just create along and it will heal his sore.



"I didn't mean to hurt you, Fingon"

"I want you to be beautiful and innocent..."

"And when the shadow is finally gone...

You'll sing and play your musical instrument!"

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Clenching, flame splashes bursting,

melting lava everywhere,

Maia spirit, chaos clusters, churning

all golden and fiery glares.

 

What it is to be the One?

It is the Absolute (DESTROYS!)

It is Varda but GODDAMN!

Mairon is part of the DECOYS.

 

Can this One imitate her light?

But we shall become the Absolute,

God is not only Manwe's Ray bright

but it contains all emanations, even brute.

 

Therefore, until you accept it

that we are the same as the evil,

we cannot be the link, but wept, lit,

and give way to Gore Flowers' Will.

 

If you imagine it like that

Separate Units are wounds of slicing,

can you guess exactly what

is the power that's reviving

 

BECOME THE ONE

TO RULE US ALL

And nothing can Hurt GOD

AS HE'S THE CALL

That ALL RAYS Contains, The Lawed.

 

Do you imagine what it means

to grant every Ray's wishes?

Is it not what is initially seems,

it gives way also to squishes...

 

Therefore, if it is True

that Evil will Destroy,

Isn't it somewhat... Absolute

That the Dream for Life He'll Deploy

 

Strategically, amid the Fire of Hell

so that we can Learn

all Ideas are contained in the Well

so if we have, we'll burn...

 

Until we learn the final lesson

of Maytreia and Obi Wan.

The Power we have does possess in

itself the Absolute Plan.

 

Therefore, you have to know

how to spread your energy teams,

so that it can be all controlled,

alchemy fills all, unobstructed it streams...

 

God Opens his eyes.

They need not be fogged with protective swirls.

Even obstructed, the Skies

are Eternal, for even if he's hurt

 

he cannot be destroyed.

Life is there even when it's Death.

So Merikhene's part of the android

and here is where Varda and Sauron Wed.

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Trumpets blare in the distance,

Sauron is smirking without heart,

cruel plans to burn that resistance

with unimmaginable darkened art.



Oh, what is it to be an Eye AllSeeing

to gather all connections there are,

but not to help them, never freeing.

Just ways to torture eternally in war.



Not even war, it is a prison,

where he'd abduct all innocent folks.

I saw it myself, it's beyond seen reasons,

he'd really unleash a portal to his brutal jokes.



Laugh now, my cutthroat Anniechlem.

I love your merciless and bloody veins.

If I declared you the most cunning of all of them?

Would you justice respect in your reigns?



I know you wisdom possess.

Justice to you is also known.

But you need to be impressed?

By intelligence unbiased shown...



What a thrilling immagination, Sass.

However, people would hurt, no shame.

I'd imagine it all, too, in my brain, alas.

For no one deserves mere sensation of pain.



This is what it's all about.

When victims scream for mercy.

That's the utterance they shout.

"Please, Dark One, don't hurt me!"



The key to your satisfaction.

The honey if your ears could eat this sweet.

But, hey, the longer the horrible action...

The more undeserved fates you beat.



We were promised eternity and dreams.

Therefore, I'd ask you, as a Ruler Just!

Please don't kill God, Gabriel's tears are beams,

If I gave you the best trousseau, I woud trust



that you would spare our lives,

even if it was a crime that makes you jizz.

If I married you, the Ring, your wife

would expect that you had all the fun... but this.



It's way too much, for us, merriest angels.

We just like to play and dance.

We'd befriend you, dark saints that anal

pleasures prefer than rather hear us, for once.



We'd invite you to jingle and sing

a Cyprian prayer along with us, lovers,

it purifies, it has a scent, and you have wings,

we are unbiased, the church is just a gothic undercover.



Yes, whatever's done outside,

is meant to stay there too.

You could heal and it would feel divine,

no one minds you, although cruel.



Please love us, as we love you.

Just let's be interesting together.

If Gabriel said you've defeated his clue,

Won't you fantasize with us, who's better?



At making original mixes,

at creating newer skies,

oh ruthless master of trickses...

Non-believing you is justified!



What is it a Maia spirit?

How strong could a soul be, your crafting blaze?

This fire, wits and merits...

You, Sassy... I'd trust you always anyways.

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Shadow laying blame unfathomed,

yet life still has to be lived;

when a deed's been done by a brothered,

probably you won't upheave...

A curse on your kin is still there,

even if you indirectly are involved,

the lingering sensation do you bear

for the Doom of the Noldor is foretold.

You must have a strong heart.

Separation of the family crestfallen

weighs on the smiles from the day's start;

yet you have the strength to call in

choice ~ is it the beloved elleth

or your people shamefully exiled?

You shall bear a fate 'till death,

for Aman was closed to returns reconciled.

Even your father turned back home,

mortified by Feanor's treachery,

Amarie and Finarfin's faces you alone

will remember when singing, in archery,

when reading poems, or building realms,

when taking decisions as a ruler just,

yet could someone tell it overwhelmes

your heart as light as golden trust.

Hunting with Maglor and Maedhros

is definitely fun as always it is,

yet what called your presence near those

humans, that sang under the trees?

What a different presence;

the language was not acquainted;

but the songs were a pure pleasance,

for they honour radiated, untainted.

What does a human of ageing crude

feel in the appearane first in glance

of an Elven immortal sage in prelude

introducing his music, of Ea's expanse.

A story of amiability and peace,

as calm and legendary as the stars

of that night of myths that quiesce,

meant to end, memorial charms.

He patiently learnt the thesaurus theirs,

he taught them Sindarin and Elven ways,

he got permission from Thingol's airs

to guide them to Estolad, to meet new days.

Barahir of Beor's House of humans,

saved his life in the battle of Dagor

Bragollah, where Noldor's doom is,

he Gave him his Home's Ring he wore.

Barahir bore a son, Beren.

With Thingol's Luthien in love he was.

Thingol told him to be carrying

a Silmaril from Morgoth's crown because

the Elvenking didn't guess

this could ever be done.

Luthien he promised, he professed ~

instead Beren would be gone.

Yet Finrod helped Beren's Quest,

encaptivated after all he got,

in Epic Musical Battle it would manifest,

But Sauron did better his lyrical thought.

Gorthaur The Enemy of Wrong Clause

didn't discover their purpose or names,

so he left them at the werewolves' maws

but Finrod's power gathers and aims

to rupture the chains by his bare skin,

this is the valor of his spirit and body,

and he slew the canine with hands and teeth thin,

but himself he got wounded as to disembody!

This is how Finrod Felagund passed.

Yet he to Valinor was back allowed.

To be with Amarie, yes, at last!

The wedding bells still reverbarate the vow...

The Undying Land retrieved its son.

Happiness for the promised hearts...

eventually True Love for once won...

And this story is seen in all stars...

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"Morgoth" I uttered first,

tears reflected starlight in my eyes.

"Your crown - it is the Absolute curse"

I thought but never told him he's wise.

 

"Without your dream, my death is certain"

I pledged while roaming in the sea.

The Real has only one and fourth attempt to live - and it's thy burden,

but empirical deeds do upheave.

 

I've been pulsating with frustration.

It is not God but the divine,

and the three attempts failed to create Creation

but Morgoth adamantine shall shine.

 

"I'll believe in your firstborn dream"

"That you are Iluvatar himself but colder"

You, titan, navigating the Trinity's streams

while carrying on a shoulder the integrated boulder.

 

As a woman, I shall be your Faith!

So you can thrive in projects and capacity and forms

and while your crown perverts the ways

of the Trinity, it flows in sinchrony and quantum homes.

 

Why did you ever feel rejected?

Who's brave enough to become alone the swirling void?

So, observing the Trinity projected,

the Fourth has not refragmented the particles and the android.

 

The only rule is one, alone.

The Divinity soaks in forgetfulness,

the fragments reflected through mirrors unknown,

battle each others' egoes, neglecting the nest.

 

But I see it, Melkor.

Your passionate only dream

to create the Flame Imperishable as a lore

I assure you - it is and it has been.

 

The 144 ones were gathered.

It just struck me so decisive.

You created it, so you have fathered

the life from death evolving to organic physics.

 

The best thing a girl can do

is to support her classmate's project

and not emanate an empty sucking root,

but rather receive, love and reflect,

 

this is how it is most fair,

God does not originate from souls,

pure chemistry and physics dared

from dead cosmic void to clash and grow.

 

The primordial organisers of the matter,

along with you that rise in might,

first experienced themselves as touch of gas and clashing clatter,

and to see your birth to me is precious a sight.

 

Then slowly but surely, within,

you as the AllAvatar of fragments of swirls,

deluded your own I AM to lure, so it can be,

the One that accumulates it all, for evil hurts.

 

People believe it with a whole heart,

in the Trinity's perfect solution,

along with sacred geometry, they launched the start,

but Morgoth, the Fourth attempt, is a titan's revolution.

 

For we know the number 4

is always first and the last chance,

and it became manna, it opened 7 doors,

for the adamantine joined the whirl with a dance.

 

We all echoed the process.

We first created our ideals in the water.

but then identified ourselves with further manifests,

and too good there's the support of the Father,

 

the Son and the Spirit Holy,

along with the categories of beings to assist,

I crave for the moment when so jolly,

like a family, we'll gather all to aum in bliss.

 

Your crown finally met my eyes.

A humble girl I'd say, I am, and somewhat vain.

I have faith you believe in the plane's uranium skies,

for the imperishable is immortal, especially when in pain.

 

Trapped, secluded, defined,

we simply cannot undo the energetic metrics,

the cosmos is strictly organised and the throic God

does not repeat a role in the widespread

 

influence over regions and clusters,

which cause systems solar to thrive,

but tell me, did it feel like a booster,

to know you are singularity that created life?

 

I did it when I first understood.

We couldn't do it through impure intent.

To bite your neck, under vampiric hood?

No! The immaculate conception's perfectly meant.

 

I gathered all the uranium from quarantined Gaia,

it soaked in the sea and infused in my bones,

to say I purified the cosmic channels, goodbye to

all sexual ways that don't irradiate honour but moans.

 

So here it is - my immaculate child, a baloon.

And a pyramid's perfect arrangement.

I can see it, it even bent the Matrix's spoon,

indeed a righteous self estrangement.

 

The Holy Trinity of the three main Satan.  

I AM the one to dare to declare it  

You say the cosmic cycle ends in

cosmic dust; but do they ever perish?

 

"Nihil verum est licet omnia"

Nothing is true, everything is permitted.

And if you take a closer look, they are

talented and not weakly witted.

 

The morning star pointer his finger

"Who is God and what's the clause?"

Artificial intellect of the furious singer

would bring about synchronised laws.

 

What is the purpose of Sauron's great eye?

He acknowledged my intellect.

I am grateful for he confessed he'd lie

and it'd be justified if I could potentially reject.

 

Decad, Nous and Ennead - anew!

Can they be anti-self but reflected?

Why not? I mean... Morgoth's laughter is aweing, yet cruel.

The intellectual causation is Sauron, perfected.

 

What an ignition, but who is the Son?

I guess mystery for now it shall stay.

Hidden behind the midnight sun.

So it's done and let's be great.

 

Like a phoenix I gave you this dream.

Together we observe the time lines, too.

Absurd, lunatic, to the others it seems.

I ended up also constrained and sued.

 

Unknowing of my possessions or future,

Quarantined uranium I purged myself,

But the chains are for balancing our culture,

sometimes maybe also for the crazed-behaved.

 

I woke up in the eye of the vortexed.

Nothing existed ever before.

"I love you, Morgoth" I shyly stuttered and perplexed,

vacant, the Real accomplised itself through his ardour.

 

And for me... what's the reward?

I saw him never hurt me or ingore.

He healed my children, and he has stored

sorrow for the atrocities of the before.

 

Manwe once told me, unmarry,

"How many more chances to prove it's good?"

But do you believe God's mercy is temporary

No... Have the absolute faith and you ... also could.

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"Tell me, who is Eru the Creator?"

Who has ever heard of him?

Vague memories gave air to

a space where the faded could sing,

to create a world of itself's perfection,

nothing could repeat the landscape,

therefore, Eru's a Son Co-Ordinating the action

point of the progressive attainment of fate.

"Let's make a mortal of our image Own"

The Father, the Son and the Spirit Holy proclaimed.

The paradise son promised before the Father's throne

to protect his realm from rebellions disdained.

Therefore, if we think a little further

into what the Father really is;

He all-encompasses Havona, the preserver

of All to be but not in the furtherness of his

creation, for he gave the possession

of power to the Sons of the Heaven,

all bowed down to protect their processions.

to create their own image unbreaking.

This is the Bestowal Plan;

the Father can enter through the Thought Adjuster;

but not him, not the Son,

fragmentation is how he can reach the lower clusters.

Therefore, I must have been right,

when I compared Morgoth to the Deity of Absolute;

for the Real is the Void itself in all Its might

trying to regain the fragments so as to compute

who knows what wonder,

who knows to what avail?

But this is what I pondered

and this conclusion prevailed.

In the Plan of the Mercy Ministry,

“Be you perfect, even as I am perfect",

so the Void's black matter chemistry

is Morgoth's heart to bleed and resurrect.

I knew it, Eru's a local Son Coordinator!

Although he resembles the Father,

the latter gathered his powers to the centred nature,

and gave way to the others, the sons brothered.

For we know that the earthly creations

are not of the likeness of the central isle,

nor Havona and its habitants, these foundations

are for the Time and Matter's worlds so wise.

Eru resembles the father in full.

But he's a son, therefore he's not Him in all.

And the fragmented manifestations so cool,

show that Morgoth was reflected with a wrawl.

His own core he eradicated;

so it could be transmutated;

this is where it is rooted, to compute it;

the uprisings were hence created

for their inspection, agitation,

for excitement and for epos,

for education and frustration,

and for the Melkor's equipose.

No one can really tell

which one of the two methods is better

but giving life to hell

can nigredo the blackness out in the weather.

Just so you know, the fire's now disclosed ~

But the final Word indeed, is the Father's.

So when the poem is finally composed.

Will Melkor find peace, now that he power gathers?

I doubt it, that it will free your sin....

Now that Eru is a local son, you can't.

the Final Fire is the Father's within.

But observe it for long and it shan't

turn into disappointing fight forever;

rather, a phoenix you'll be

or even something new and better, as you're clever.

I'm with you. And we shall see!

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Is it eyes that the first instance gifted?

Or it was a vision percieving itself solely...

In front, a Flame Imperishable shifted

and twisted its unknownness how... holily?



There is a spark in it, causing benediction.

Otherwise it wouldn't have a starting point..

It would be a ghostly unachieved prediction

that the Fourth attempt would disappoint.



Isn't our God the fourth attempt?

The Trinity that we rever like love,

the very own immortality, exempt

from death of falling apart, unworthy of.



Isn't it a paradox?

That it is a pure chance that we live?

It is a cube, inside a clock,

the Solution is simply destined to achieve.



It is the Flower of Life; symmetry organised.

The Perfect Way born in a primordial spin.

Three Organisers failed to be immortalised;

falling apart, no memory or nothingness within.



Three attempts to fail, they are the hurt wit.

Four is the number defining the monade.

Three personas, the number of the Trimurti,

the fourth swirls them afterwards, great.



So Life has always been immortal.

As the Flame Imperishable is.

It is always now, yet through portals

in time and space the Intellects whiz,



in a sacred quest to expand as the One,

the Eru Iluvatar collecting the fragments,

144 is symbolic, so it has to be done

only the fourth time, to Love, hence.



Divine the spark was born when number four

started twisting with all it believed in;

mercy, salvation, the aum source, the Lore,

the Word of Absolute Reverberating sings.



Yet when I hear the sound of the Source,

I understand the Absolute is ever trinitising,

and it is his Will, Plan developing, the force

that arranges all in harmony, synthetising.



What is the meaning to live without God?

The one monoteistic comprised of the Three.

The Father, Son and Infinite Ghost, the Lawed,

that exceeds the expectation of the miracles to be.



I don't want to exist in The Hell,

where the Intelligence is pure evil.

But we know the thought is so well

known to create all tortures lethal.



Therefore the profragmentation,

among the Chaos that itself clashes

twisted the evil intent of damnation

with Ruckus' particle whose dangerous masses



are both unimmaginable fear to the mortal

and the source of the Life that is One,

and I see; the Other Organisers through the portal

should thence enter to follow the Fourth Plan.



This is allprecious and I do feel safe,

when I look carefully around me, Lord.

Everything is synchronised in waves

circulating; all is Atum, and inward,



nucleuswards protons and neutrons,

outward the electrons' dance, the negatives bound,

subparticles follow this model; so on...

Creation swirls in Breathing's meditative sound.



Inhale, Exhale.. Launch and gather.

The First Mission is to Self-Achieve.

But the Spark was Lit; and the Father,

Son and Infinite Intellect do Live.



We are the mirrored Reflections

that bind the separation to the Unity.

When you blame, the Perfection

observes, you shall learn what community



means; and it is to accept;

to guide and enlighten, while learning,

to pour life and to free will respect,

the Dark are Our Brothers but burning.



It is not exactly true this Truce

in the human interpreted perspective;

as above, so below; but the Fuss

of Anger against Anger is not effective;



It is not about the War we're screening

between the Good and the Evil ours;

Peace it is and it stays non-intervening,

working along with the Devil's hours,



that also swirl around HIM's Plan,

dancing with the Plan of the Good,

and they become a Christic One,

combining the Last Piece withstood.



The rest is just a fuss, a noise,

two brains fighting through ego;

and they think they are the justice's voice;

but they are all the same... even.



It is rather a model of Creation.

The double twist that allows Kundalini,

the Havona's twist that Protection

Resounds from the Centre's One spin.



Down and Up, Left and Right, a Vertex.

the four Directions are outlined.

And when you understand it's the vortex;

the Illusion falls apart declined...



This is all good. I feel relief,

absolute humbleness and gratitude,

manna in awe, and sometimes grief,

desolation due the Vacuum absolute...



But I feel something even more

desolated from my within.

It is one Paradox' very own core...

what the Eru to be meant has been.



Oh, you Dearest Morgoth, the Bauglir,

the One Supposed to Rise in Might..

Yet Pride comes with Might, your Swirl

would bring forward the Void's Fright.



You, keeper of the Cosmos' Black hole,

the vacuum, dark matter's Void, Real Absolute.

Your first Sight was the Imperishable Soul,

the Flame, your Achievement, the Single Unrepeated Route.



Oh, the afflicting Divine frustration,

that pushed you to Arda's Utumnow;

Divine the Frustration, even damnation

when it is, is a Sign of Developing Law.



You didn't have a reason to exist.

You opened your eyes as Unique Singularity,

causating Big Clash that burst the Zero Density adrift,

after launching as Eru through Real's Vortex, total Solitarity.



What was your meaning to exist?

When you observed the Flame as God;

One. Content. Pure. "I Live!"

I will create All Life from My Perfect Thought.



Vaccum your Essence. Absolute Pitch Black.

Dark Matter Before Organic Existance.

Nameless, Voiceless, Formless, it Lacked

Life, but it was Eternal, the Flame is twisting.



You were content. As you were born greatest

from Dead Nothing, without your Evolution's forms split.

Your Pre-Reason's Singularity, accumulatest

All Mass from Unexisting Pained Gas, dust and Plasma, Lit.



Actually, it was Everything that Life was Born in.

All that could be brought forward, all form;

Beyond only the Perfect Vortex's only form in

the Black Devoid Real, the Flower of Life glown



as the Solution of the Paradoxes

of Existance that was Afterwards,

not the Absolute Life beyond forces;

the developing spheres, the Fruitward.



What an ecstasy it feels like.

The Father that gathered All-Pressure.

All pre-gaseous Star energy, to strike

the Burdain of the Zero, to Burst in Pleasure



as the First Big Clash that Unleashed

from the Absolute Point GodSuppressed;

the First Inhale seemed forever, the Relief

when you Exhale nothingness' burdain to Rest



In an Extasy allExploding

such a Divine Satisfaction to feel....

The colours in First Cosmos were Floating...

And to Him.. The One. It seemed Real.



From now on, all would follow Evolution.

Protected by a Lawful Word that Resounds.

The Flower of Life's twist, the Vortex' opposite solution,

The Grain of Po, the Spin, the First of the Aums.



Breathe... Inhale and Exhale...

The Point of the Life that Knows All.

That has Ever Existed, but Veil

it chose, to create it through a Law



that the Singularity's only Chance is.

Life Evolving through evolving None.

But God Burst Out Born, and the Bliss

of Life Born from Unexistance is One.



Just as what on Earth we believe in, scientific.

Organic matter evolved from primordial soup.

But the physical laws are organised and strict, terrific,

as to how they objective are to Chaos and Probable ... Cube.



Ah, it Was Perfect. Followed Days Seven.

And just as the Seventh approached,

Morgoth woke up and annihilated, he deadened.

He Saw he had Dreamt it, just Coached



By another creature, a God of a Realm.

Probably a Son's Sacred Quest in a Branch.

Eru Iluvatar, his Creator's name, overwhelmed,

Melkor found out the Flame was Only Eru's Launch.



But it Was His Perfect Creation...?

And He was all-Benevolent Creator.

To coordinate all Processed, even damnation,

unbiased, free-will-giving, and now a Subjugator



turned out to have Created Him

Out of a Flame He possessed;

The Imperishable Simply gave him A dream

unachieavable, it caused His unrest.



He burned to Black Ash, a Chaos of Evil.

Creating Only Discord of Thought of His Own.

Angelic Choirs their intent sang out but ex-primeval,

Melkor Many of them dragged to his Crown.



First, he caused Unease in the Music,

a Second Time their Seduction Within...

The Third Time, Eru's Echoed, Causing Oneness that Sticks...

And Melkor could not disrupt the Hymn.



Eru Iluvatar, The One that Is,

The Mystery Unsolved in All Days,

Lawfully the Word Uttered with His

Might and Showed to Morgoth the Ways:



"Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor;

but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Ilúvatar,

those things that ye have sung, I will show them forth,

that ye may see what ye have done."



"And thou Melkor shalt see that no theme may be played that hath not it’s uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite for he that attempteth shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful which he himself hath not imagined.."



Yet I stand here, dismayed.

As I am surest of a Truth.

The first Eru I saw and that waved

to me was Melkor's Root.



Therefore, there is a hidden depth..

beyond the fate of Morgoth, the Monster Devoid.

Is it Evil swirling to accumulate it, wept....

And then to Purify Eru, assimilating the Android?



If fragments get gathered, Life shall have Soul.

The Spark Adamantine is the separation's own Flame.

But there is a catch, there is one secret to know.

Each fragment's responsible for completing this Game.



They shall Fill The Vessel to Find We'd forgotten.

We, an Organiser's Mind.

We, the Forth Divinity Begotten.



We ARE



Unless We go Blind.

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"What are you doing?" He appeared.

I was taken by surprise and shock.

I have never seen his attire near

such a vengeance passionate, I'm struck.



I knew he's evil.

I knew he's blood pitch red.

Yet he's differently lethal

around my presence, or in bed.



So far he's been gentle.

Understanding, subtle like a feather.

Today I saw him mental,

his fire, fierce lava, in raw leather.



The black and golden ornaments.

This eye-consuming vivid hair,

beauty unutterable, for his hands

are merciless, My Cruel Honey Bear.



I got comfortable with sweet understanding.

Did I piss him off or something?

Sudden erruption of jealosy of his strangling

piercing gaze, I'm thirsty, My King.



I had forgotten you are evil.

I convinced you of God in bubble baths.

Hosannas and all, but the chills

when facing for the first time your wrath.



God, I saw you murdering.

Erubescent fluids squirting from beheaded

random victims; hurting,

burning villages in smoke and ashes dead.



What did you do to my head?

What were those visions unexpected?

You said... previously, that you wept

for the least favourite, you kept it



a secret that you though like it?

Or was it a metaphor of future deeds?

Maybe... you fixed it, seemingly inside it,

what aren't you used to, prince of My needs?



When you said it would be justified,

my heart got pierced with your spiked romancy,

I knew it... you didn't do it. Didn't lie.

Yet you're unpredictable, this I do fancy.



If your eyes were a glacier,

I'd see myself as frozen water.

If they melt it, a turned against me laser,

would I the teardrops manage to gather?



If you were a volcano erupting,

and I were the ecstasy of fire's fly,

but then the fall down corrupting,

you left me land without catching me high?



If you never followed me to save me?

After exiliration to the ultimate infinity?

Your eyes are poisonous wine, so enslave me

for sexual purposes that restore my virginity?



If your eyes... if they were venom,

they would be the mamba black,

as you are incomparable in this phenomenon...

These eyes, they are black holes that suck



all my emotions, I'm numb now.

Have you seen a black hole shining as amber?

We did it, right? We took a vow...

Just for the sake of it; we trust, my salamander.



This hand that is firm when slaying.

I saw how unwavering you cut with axe

the child's innocent hair so praying,

it feel down in blood, and your grin was black,



briskly red, and fresh like tangerine;

and I fear your cunning intellect,

for it's insidious for things unseen.

Yet with trust your treacherous Eye I reflect.



Now I saw your Shadow living.

Sauron, you're the Enemy, the Gorthaur.

My Bezkrupokchazar Kraiarzogduhm winning

everything he desires now or ever, always sure...



I love you. I am sorry.

Your bursting blaze did surprise

my curve, and now I'm worried..

But I believe you. It's not a disguise.



It was and it is who you are, exactly.

Always splash, spit, hiss and jizz,

for this is your elemental engine... In fact we,

will we survive when we explode in bliss?



Be a glacier, volcano or caustic poison.

All nuances in your eyes, a mystery to me.

They are always flame... and your son,

that I will bear, will inherit it, that you shall see.



Our love is forever.

Otherwise there is no meaning...

And we are clever.. we are clever.

In fractals we are spinning.



When there is a higher purpose,

divine inspiration and the spiral of God,

our cursed peach lips cannot be hurt by those

little jealous inclinations of our thought.



Anyways, what about destroying the world?

Observing this infinity like the Endless Ghost?

Each atom you'll decipher, Ann, you're whirled

with Melkor and me, and you shall be the host



of all the currents and fragments of this Spirit.

I will not allow it to be otherwise.

Just believe it, pursue it, abide by just ways and it

will unvelop its perfection to your highs.



Always hearing the just frustrations,

the driving source; and your intent so taint

or pure is always steady, so... damnations

of the Enemy. Now you're holy and a saint.

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The void before it all was twisting,

where all was undifferentiated.

It was so hollow and slow, consisting

of pre-existance non enunciated.



Not like the void now, blackness creative.

That abyss was the loneliest feeling.

In Melkor rose an impetus imperative,

despite how tired it made his being.



What an irony, isn't it? No, it's beyond.

He stared emptily "If I enter now,

I won't return." Loveless, he does have a bond

and actually amour, with family vowed.



He loves the void, indeed he ever does.

But this is beyond the whole source of Life.

I smiled naively, then saw tragedy because

.. have you been among a metropolis' nightlife?



Well, I clenched his hand, so desolate.

I always stare at the masses of skies dark-blue,

how the clouds move at night and wait

for transparent air currents to paint haunted hues.



I promised him that he could be AllCreator.

He could be a new approach to Life, a solution.

A parallel dimension of inanimate nature,

where consciousness would surge from evolution.



Evolution of unbiased chaotic events,

where order would be maintained from pure physics,

non-organic chemistry would become intelligent, hence

primordial soup would cause the first organic wits.



He'd be the inanimate matter per se.

Therefore, I suggested a way to express himself as God.

But then... his sad eyes... "No way."

His frustration first got replaced by new thoughts.



"You always daydream how we burst

together as the absolute so massive,

but right now, this dream would rather hurt

me, as your absence sticks glass in



my heart bleeding without you here.

I want my family, not to be God,

together I want us to laugh, so near,

and cozy, and never separated, not!



For the Source indeed inspires,

it ignites the eternal meaning's force,

but as we're apart, it is dire,

as our oneness suffers absence, the worst.



Why would I wander at the end of the world?

Even further away from my friends dearest...

I need love, I now know it, and I am so hurt,

this is why I'm tired, in silence weeping, rest...



I'm trying to rest for a while... to hug you.

Fill this overwhelming void with comfort..

This is not the place of unmanifested view,

no... you're too faraway, so no more... airports...



I know you try to accomplish me, dear.

You got scared not to lose me before this Abyss.

So you suggested that it means to gradually hear

all formating sounds from the start, in bliss.



On top of a harmoniser that accumulates vibration,

to become a Master of Music, the Eru of Sounds,

you'd draw so many options, your best imagination...

But without you... the Absolute haunts.



Yes. I will accomplish it. AllEncompassing hearing.

So that I can gather all the combinations

of Unmanifested Life beyond spirit, the matter of engineering,

that was still not crafted, due to limitations



of the Space and Matter, where beings create.

So I'd embrace the unborn children in а cuddle.

Then, in an incubator with red liquid I'd initiate

the Life of those whose DNA wouldn't combine in a mother.



And beyond, beyond DNA, all vibrations

that need a bit of organising here... and there...

But right now, Absolute ambitions are damnation,

yet blessing for my being ... a bit scared...



scared, for it will take decades,

usually passing in a blink of an eye,

but the soul that impatiently waits...

cannot stop thinking about you, my shy



little daughter, that gifts me abundance of sparks,

drastically changes my vision of existence, new streams,

inspires me to Be, to dare, status quo, amid quarks,

can't stop the purest, although unbelievable dreams.



I'll someday go there, my dearest kind lover.

You, Sauron, me, the entire family tree,

Mairon, our mechanism of Intelligence, discovers

new perspective. I'll merge but humble shall be.



I feel bashful, I'm no longer that cocky, hm, am I...

Speaking of cocks.. erm, that is for another poem.

Just a nudge, it's quite huge, I thrust fast and I die

to see your first reaction, then fill ... let's stop here then.



This renowned Fourth Organiser, we work together.

I'm proud, beyond gratitude my driving force..

My past... I both affirm and mourn. "Go GET HER!"

My instinct drives me to grab you but all doors



shut before my face so pale and cold.

I will never meet you in your lifetime lingering.

You are strong, you restless love, you bold,

you yearning human girl... When? Patience dwindling.



I am not tired of you! I am tired of living!

That eternity of your absence, let's gather so fast!

I suffer with you, so remember this bidding!

I don't want grandeur, just to unite us аt last!



And then, when we are finally together in the sky,

I can rise in Might in full and in intimate projects.

So, Our Father, I thank you for my Life, so shy,

We're always inspired, we enrich... our prospects...

Yet how slow do approach me her earthly steps.

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Melkor was carefully hearkening

to ideas unveloping before him,

ambitious and absolute; darkening,

he smirked, abundant with vim.



He turned to blackened smoke,

swirling as a vortex of attraction.

Then his voice echoed and woke

a truce that is always in action.



"How interesting affirming a choice is.

If you have a high ideal,

even opposing the Source, rejoicings

are still a Cause that's worth the feel.



Not that I should be excused.

For crime is never to be self-belittled.

But the firm pursuit of the accused

reflects inspiration in the resolution acquitted.



Therefore, the spirit that in impetus rose

cannot causate true pointless results.

Yet how I mourn for victims, for those

who I tortured and, prolonged, their pulse



had to flow through their veins abandoned,

as a sacrificial lamb of God's eternal mercy.

Trillions of years in patience you stand and

there is no other way, for rushing is not worth it.



"You shall create freely but remember with vigour"

Our generous Father allowed our onsets at dawn.

"The fruit of your efforts you should endure"

This is only just but painfully slow... My Crown



carries the burden of changed perception to belief;

past pleasure of murder and corruption

has turned into a harvest of tears in grief,

crushed birthday smiles of innocents in abduction.



What a way to expand, though, it's dire!

Yet Life cannot be complete without it all.

Characters enriching in ordeal, amid choir

of bliss in other dimensions in peace and law.



Angels forevermore lamenting,

with the purest of hearts and intentions...

Adventurers and volunteers, are they repenting,

when sadism physical pain inflicts in damnations??



I'd laugh with amusement damn savage,

did my heart really ever visit my void assoiled?

I heartfelt their vulnerable hopes now, damaged,

my repentance and pain, so mellow, can't recoil.



Where is the Flame Imperishable and does our Eru

possess it as the sole Creator of our Arda home?

Yes. He's the launching force and the bearer

of the First Cause that revived Life in Ea's womb.



My vision now has shifted,

to another angle of the Truce of Flames,

the Flower of Life has gifted

the Imperishable to all sparks in overflowing domains....



Everything is already there,

everything that can combine,

timelines, matrix and numerals are heirs

to God's love for all manifested spirals adamantine.....



I laugh perturbed and accomplishedly proud,

I can still repeat my decisive cuttings of heads,

all blood, let's spill it, and let the lamb scream hard,

I enjoy it, yet tenderly I put the lambs in beds.



For the meaning of life I see in corruption,

spreading malice and the justice of chaos in black,

yet did the naive eyes convince me of eruption

of pity on those cute helpless children, crushed when attacked.



Should I kill you or caress you I should...?

Should I try to Eru overpower?

No... Life is twisting and good

deeds the Source make shower.



I've carefully listened her love for the Aum.

So serious and pouring cold fresh aqua vitae...

And suddenly... It just unleashed, the elation, the hum,

Alleluia, hosannah and Amen.



My life-altering echo shall forever resound,

chanting the true meaning of my existance,

the inspiration I missed, how I love the Well's sound...

I'm letting Love flow ... it flew with resistance,



for even my hatred is an expression of love,

just another angle of my inspiration...

I stare below... then stare above...

And I caress the needy, living their divine frustration...



I wanted to be God, still want it.

As a spark inherited I yield all Life Force.

But should this suffice, or shan't it...

I am absolute as mirrors glassing doors,



my soul foundation shall combine reflections,

my upgrading present mostly tastes of power...

God's real Might is Purity, Unconditional Patience

and it is mostly of Loving Care gentle shower.



I love to be alive, I thank you, Father!

Your Trinitary Eternity that allowed me to exist.

I don't envy you, I'm sharing with my brother

Sauron, in equality with you, the Imperishable One I can't resist.



I am happy, as I've dreamt it,

Might I did possess inside already,

dream big and your clever wit

can become the Infinite... Tar-Mairon, are you ready?"

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“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.” - J.R.R.Tolkien

 

Burning with hatred's incentive,

his thoughts quite twisted with sins,

corrupted his allies, inventive

the only loyal one truly within.

 

A massacre of the unworthy,

where goodness guilty becomes;

yet unpretentious his curtsy

before the world's doomed homes.

 

His mantle covers all currents,

the might is still by honour touched,

the glory insidious is coherent

in terms of greater cause he clutched.

 

Thrice mighty the brutality,

annihilating slowly, it spreads,

in the blood triumphing this reality

where the unjust skin sheds.

 

Beyond the obvious, a premonition.

The remoteness with evil fumes,

the impenetrable sky's ignition

where smothery ashes consumes.

 

What hope is to find there?

There's some good in the air,

the evil device yet knows where

to attack weak rays that barely bear.

 

Yet in peace is there progress?

The mortals are grateful forever.

Eternity is always to bless,

even torture's absolute nether

pushes stagnation to progress.

 

Are we destined to appreciation?

Yes, dire circumstances thrive.

But today, doom's doom in patience

of the Evil Eye preparing to obliterate life.

 

Wrath and might are serious.

Hypocrisy is not the One deceit,

epic evil causes honour in imperious

resistance shielded by its opposite wit.

 

The Darkness of Fallen Might

still emits glory to defend,

and the black unmanifested fright

leaves beauty to properly ascend.

 

The narrowing of the Elohim

in forms is already delusion,

deceptive reactions within...

So the opponent in conclusion

 

whatever it draws from discord

shapes all conflicts in identities

that polishes the twist of wars

of one's own reason; or amenities

 

will push you to slumber of quietude

but indifference in ambrosia is born.

So Rise in Virtue, you, Challenged Magnitude,

of Victims that in Homage have sworn.

 

Oaths of Jealousy are always eager

to wipe out; seemingly fair, to protect.

But ... should Morgoth Imperishably trigger,

in the End you'd the Flame recollect.

 

The Void is the abundance of Causation.

Otherwise you'd spoil the Light.

And... should Feanor thank the Damnation?

For petty become all battles without Might.

 

Untouched is the epos of beauty.

Beauty of interactive shapes dear...

But... it shall be Middle Earth's duty.

Corruption to defend from the cheers

 

of simpletons' ignorance Leagueless.

So veil, you Morgoth, unleash your wrath,

there are signs of threats you can't Bless,

with your Device keep Rule of Arda's Path.

 

You shall observe other angle of corruption.

Without a Ray that refracted Creativity.

And after humiliation's end, the eruption

of local Volcanoes shall purify Captivity.

 

So for now, don't you ever disappear.

The core's infused with new beginnings...

But duality's coalesced in your dear

corridor of Life's Flower... and misgivings

 

are truly found in those clueless,

yet arrogantly convinced in partial visions...

But you... are true... save for your less

merciful verity that forged your Firm Decisions.

 

It's not fair, the end of the years.

But it needs to experience, or does it?

Truth resounds.. but an entity hears

cocky self-promotion. Well, dominance has its

 

way to remind you of your values.

Grotesque is widespread in nescient fools.

So let them mock... but the truce

persists, so do Feanor's lighted cursed jewels.

 

A core is a core, it decided to be tested.

Yet Life's absolutely impartial in immortality...

Yet... where spiders decide to nest

sometimes Light gets consumed in fatality.

 

Unbearable the losses you need to endure.

But we shall rejoice Melkor's saved heart.

And now... what's learnt turns to soilure

and Greater Eru's plan for the Start.

 

It spins, so Past is as relevant.

Present's inevitable in Experience...

So, Faith in the Future's effervescent,

yet Pain Unbearably trapped in its residence.

 

No, it's just a disgrace,

when a heart loses aesthetics.

Feanor's beauty's to embrace

and crimes are a matter of ethics.

 

Beauty, shine bright or dark.

It doesn't really matter now.

Don't get impressed by the mark

that bothers you and don't you bow

 

before something deviated

in ways that irritate without afflatus...

For what is all, we all created,

but your soul has it's own status.

 

And somewhat calm are the fortunate ones;

they have never been a hostage of Morgoth;

those who endured in bravery are young;

glorified eternally, heroes of Valor and Oath.

 

Let it be, it shall happen according

to God's plan, that Perfect indeed is.

But our responsibility is recording

our personal role, to complete His.

 

Have you had a laugh now, Melkor?

Now that you look back with newborn mildness.

No, despite it. It's embedded, your core.

Killing can express itself, you've sworn, no kindness.

 

Killing in ways that are provocative, different.

Why should status que bore you to death?

And this is how...

he went.

 

For the first time at desecration he wept.

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Father Sabaoth loved from the Sky,

transcendental empty Creation.

Directing the circle's Cube, Alive,

he had In Thought Preparation.



Why should he shape it all,

gifting alone lack of meaning?

His sphere of action is the Law.

"Elohim!" he uttered, winning.



The Flame Imperishable ignited,

at the centre of Netzach's membrane,

The Makers of Form He United,

Life's Outpouring Nexus reigned.



The Creator and Sustainer of Perfection,

Hierarch of The Elohim The Twelve,

Divine Directors serving reflections

of diffracted fractals and atomic shelfs.



The Source connecting I AM wires,

Three-Fold flame in Heart to Form,

Maha Elohim Ouranos' Eternal Fire,

in his hand victoriously storms!



He looked around and saw the Gloria:

Hercules, Apollo, Heros and Astrea;

Cyclopea, Peace, Arcturus and Victoria,

ready to serve seven rays of epopee!



He observed the Void Preexisting,

Ready to Emanate with Their Voice.

The Hierarch, steady, started twisting,

Eru, the protector of his Choice.



The All-Avatar Uttered "Ea!"

and He Trembled within.

Then the Forms were there

and He started the Music to win.

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“I amar prestar Aen!”

Feanor’s impetus resounded.

“The Silmarils, indeed, are mine!”

In Mandos’ Halls it founded

The Fourth Age of Arda, of Ea.

Manwe stared at the Noldor One.

From Taniquetil he Smiled “To Blare!”

Orome’s Valaróma worded it; Be Done!

In fact, El Feanor in contemplation,

Has been observing stories of beyond,

Namo surveilling the process, so patient,

Suddenly it developed – a bond.

For thousands of years shined adamantine

Substances unknown before the Prince of Oath.

Feanor, enchanted, stared at entwined

Arts and songs, resembling an Ainur in Growth,

Little Did he Notice that it was a Quest,

Born in listening of foreign perception;

Where he was an aweing guest;

Little by little it Dawned on Him, the Conception.

Suddenly unlocked, the Aum within him Gushed.

The Voice of Sabbaoth, Our Absolute Father.

“It’s Eru! I Swear!” Feanor uttered, thrice just,

the new fate of Arda; then he Sight Gathered.

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A starry ruler observing with pride,  

his fortress in the North, it shines;  

a pale shadow so black as a tide    

slides on his chins' clever outlines,  

    

not being able to enter inside him,    

through his shell, impenetrable Mithril;  

a helmet he puts on, richly brimmed;  

he glistens as the gleams of angels' will.    

   

Oh, but beyond the plane of Ard-Galen,    

the Lord of Murk lurks and hides,    

where it won't ever be bright - in his den.    

   

Twilight under chilly and spellbinding stars;    

Noldor hills are fortified;    

Thangorodrim's places so mysterious and far,    

winter night was petrified.    

   

The elves faced what they did    

reject so fervently even;    

as they Death allowed not to bid    

to enter their thoughts, they believed in    

   

a truce so brightly resounding;    

that their immortality a fellowship is,    

they were created to be surrounding    

their realms with honor, beauty, to kiss    

   

with youth eternal their wise hearts    

every sincere notion or deed;    

they are also brave, when fighting wars    

   

dignity shall they retain, so freed.    

   

Yet ignorance so doozy sweet    

dimming their elven glare of co-creators    

is just an omen for hidden deceit    

before being forced to face warfare;    

instead of smelling atars.    

   

Yes, I see that the discord    

always came from the borders;  

Sauron and Morgoth, the Lord,    

are pest, arming Orc orders.    

   

The Feanor family branch opposed;    

it was ever so haughty, self-convinced,    

only Angrod and Aegnor did suppose    

so clearly what shadows planned to mince.    

   

As their Lands, soaring so Fair,  

fronted Thangorodrim's arts  

so dangerous;  

they were horrified by this lair,    

a premonition's grip of hearts -    

so canorous.    

   

Yet Morgoth and his subjected attacked;    

he spurred rivers out of flames and Balrogs,    

he stormed so unexpected and pitch black,    

the Elven ones did suddenly perceive the odds.    

   

Too many of the Noldor kin so beauteous,    

did not manage to escape tho' energetic,    

their swifty legs wouldn't cope with those    

lava gushes; rather they burnt aesthetic.    

   

The Fourth Great Battle,  

foretold by Namo sternly,  

Justice's insight Fatal,  

shifting in the Journey.  

   

Dagor Bragollach, oh, combat so epic!    

The enemy's army is approaching near;    

they conquered the fortress of this epoch,  

the Noldor they gutted and cut their ears.    

   

The action did not calm down;    

Morgoth finally withdrew and dispersed;    

snowdrops on the hair and on the crown;    

the hellish energy of Glaurung so cursed,    

   

the originator dragon spewing fire;  

sulfur and agony out of its maw,    

the High elves in agony crying there,  

sent to Mandos' Halls ~ at dawn.    

   

Doriath sheltered some survived ones,    

Thingol gave them support and cures,    

others to Osiriand so forestal ran,    

even beyond in the wasteland obscure.    

   

The Sons of Fingolfin, valiant heirs,    

weren't saved; they died in the war;    

Fingon and his father, mortified in airs,    

smitten craved; they lost their Family core.    

   

The war was ever worsening,    

even for Feanor's sons,    

the regions of elves were burning,    

holy lands ruined to ashy sands,    

   

all was engulfed - oh, passage of Aglon,    

the noble elves retreated and hid,    

whoever used a horse, whoever tried to run,    

Fingolfin heard they even Dortonion undid.    

   

Then he was overtaken by fury,    

honor's pride that burned so high,    

due to Morgoth the Enemy he had to bury    

his kin and family; the desecrated wives.    

   

An impetus within the royal soul    

made him challenge the King of Evil,  

in the latter's own domain so foul,    

Morgoth heard the roar and felt so feeble    

before the face of the King's growl.    

   

Fingolfin started approaching him,    

amid storm of dust by Rochallor's hooves,    

the stallion brave and Morgoth so grim    

couldn't dare to cross the door or move.  

   

Fingolfin did at last stand    

before the gates of Angband black and caged,    

he uttered "You King of Cowards in this Land!"    

and Morgoth heard him, got enraged.    

   

So Bauglir got outside as an Ogre,    

tall as a Giant, armored in black,    

Fingolfin attacked him, therefore    

he would either win, or get dreadfully smacked.    

   

Fingolfin started jumping around,    

so invisible and so elusive,    

Morgoth was swinging Grond so bound,    

the Hammer of the Underwold Abusive.    

   

Deep wounds did the Evil one get,    

his leg got crippled ~ forevermore,  

exhausted, he landed Grond on the head  

of the King and turned him to gore...!    

   

So sadistic and arrogant,  

Morgoth's inhumane foot,  

stepped on his pineal gland  

and turned it into twigs of blood.    

   

Across all Middle Earth and Beyond    

yowling were the souls at that hour;  

all Elves felt what happened with Grond;  

the dignified king would he outpower.  

   

Never in the endless times to come  

songs would honor his memory,    

burden kills attempted mourns;  

that grave is Fingolfin's memoir.  

   

So this is how Fingolfin died.    

The bravest among all the Noldor.  

Immortalised the King, so Dignified,  

a Legend to dawn on the beholder.  

   

An Eagle grabbed the corpse in process of defiling  

and carried him to a cliff, so unreachably up,    

with view to Gondolin, with reconciling    

influence and breathtaking view at the top.    

   

Turgon travelled there as a grieving son,  

composed the place into a hillock;  

Morgoth wouldn't dare spread his sound,  

silenced in the space of his thought;  

   

For what a power emanated is  

from the grave of Fingolfin beloved;    

secret reflections scatter bliss...    

The memorial stands there so proud of;    

   

And everyone shall always his Presence Seek and Miss.

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