Ashes

I think I just had an epiphany.

How are you supposed to tolerate the blatant, mediocre hypocrisy that is other’s life? What is the purpose of all this floating mass of ignorance, bigotry, pretentiousness, and rotting norms, that spins around and around each and every one of us? 

The answer is simple enough. As simple as the pile of mundane ashes on our future urns

We are here for fertilizers. 

So, yes, tolerate the shit, because we’re all heading to the same dirt. 

Or, perhaps not. 

Maybe it’s better to satisfy our hate while we’re still able to enjoy the bloodlust.

True Nihilism

No. You don’t have to be living in icy, northern, overwhelmingly Christian, western, prosperously boring places, to understand the gripping madness that is nihilistic misanthropy. Not at all! 

I definitely think the opposite is more likely true…

Revival II

odd moments, passed and ebbed

lost in sights, missed by words

in darkness vibrating, damp and wet 

names are given to bear breath

to witness flesh and the tidings of death

to count the phases of the burial ground and the sky abreast

Wonderful View XXV

What a statement. All that’s missing is a Vatican-sanctioned Police Force to patrol the streets and clean up the sinners. 

The Pantheon

The moon Goddess, Ilargia, appears in many myths and legends. The Basque are very close to the moons cycles because of their agricultural background. 

Ilargia is the guardian of the dead; she leads their way to the otherworld. She also rules the world of hidden knowledge, divination, and magic

- Basque Pantheon

A Sky Full of Goddesses

“At other times, at the edge of a wood, especially at dusk, the trees themselves would assume strange shapes: sometimes they were arms rising heavenwards, , or else the trunk would twist and turn like a body being bent by the wind. At night, when I woke up and the moon and the stars were out, I would see in the sky things that filled me simultaneously with dread and longing. I remember that once, one Christmas Eve, I saw a great naked women, standing erect, with rolling eyes; she must have been a hundred feet high, but along she drifted, growing ever longer and ever thinner, and finally fell apart, each limb remaining separate, with the head floating away first as the rest of her body continued to waver” 

― Gustave Flaubert, November (1842)