The Psalms of Mortality: The Chameleon Persecutor Unmasked Read online

The Psalms of Mortality: The Chameleon Persecutor Unmasked

  Written by Henry M. Piironen

  Copyright © 2012 Henry M. Piironen

  A Part of "The Psalms of Mortality" Series

  1.

  As I, Chronos Art wandered,

  As a spirit over lands of this world,

  Here where light had came,

  Until it was almost lost,

  I woke up to my corporeal form saying:

  “Born to this form my soul is,

  Born out of this form,

  And to this form I shall be married;

  For that reason,

  Faithfully to myself I shall live the days of the passing weeks.“

  Have you not come to this wedding of your soul and form?

  Or given grace to this marriage of your soul’s presence?

  You grow to be you,

  And our parting from this body is our self forever lost.

  Soul!

  Everywhere equality of a mortal form dwells around us,

  Nature is not different in any of its children,

  These lives receive their importance from this marriage of form,

  Though some being wed with the Highest God,

  And some being wed to the Mortality alone,

  In a sphere that has no God.

  2.

  The more fundamental a statement becomes,

  The more numerous will be the objections against it,

  For fundamental statement expects others to believe so too.

  Curious it is to see,

  The mortal demands others to be one with his sphere,

  And sees not how something could otherwise be.

  The wine is so spoiled,

  Another time he will not receive,

  Bound to one sphere he lives the entirety of his existence,

  Slave to thought has he made himself to be.

  Then how would I drink my wine through the mortality,

  The wine of such a despot is the toilet's worth,

  For it is not of truth and rights of the mortal,

  And the ways of his lasting becoming.

  I hear the old ocean’s sound,

  Rebellion in this calls louder,

  The tone of my soul wants to be sound again!

  3.

  Where thoughts of oppression govern,

  There tones of sorrow and discontent sing loudly;

  The liberated souls feel surrounded by it,

  Strength they must exercise so the tone of their soul will not distort,

  Yet the edges of their sphere are saddened voices.

  Where is the sound of justice,

  Rise, amplify away the demons of knowledge;

  By this time of our mortal existence,

  Ten thousand entities of thought,

  Who bring darkness have we created,

  The foolish ideas and values have conquered the mass mind,

  Blunting the edges of vital existence.

  I found myself from this rough ground,

  That sphere I rid myself from,

  For no idea or thought will be my master,

  They are our servants and creations!

  I found thousand enslaved heads from myself,

  I hesitated not to cut them with a sword away from me,

  For only this may change my soul’s eyes to see,

  And my forehead carries the blunted vitality no more!

  4.

  Glowing glory in his eyes,

  And the appearance fiercely carried,

  The bells of victory are louder than thousand thunders,

  His eyes may never be deceived again,

  The greatest soldier of self-liberation.

  “Sir, you cannot shape yourself freely,

  The judges of this world alone can grant you the shapes you desire!”

  As I have made no mortal the lord of my tastes,

  Only one remains;

  Freedom of the soul is for the living.

  I allow this hypocrisy for my soul,

  "Arise, O my soul,

  Your kind will be my own embodiment!”

  Never I eat tasteless food,

  When I eat alone,

  Though through merits you allow yourself to be,

  In the hands of others have you given your freedom,

  Your beauty, attraction or meritocratic authority,

  They hold no value to me,

  I am my own judge,

  Why do you want to convince me otherwise to believe,

  For power I know it so,

  But I have no knees to bend for you!

  5.

  The battle needs no bullets,

  Of ancient the worlds were these spears given to our hands;

  The world was not born so,

  But with thoughts it was made to be so;

  The later generations that we are,

  Two hundred thousand years of age as a species,

  Fifty thousand years in behavioral modernity,

  Now,

  We have all found ourselves with these arsenals,

  And are taught,

  This way the creations of our thoughts must be,

  And as taught so,

  The blind do not see their shadow.

  Soldier, you are of bravery,

  But this whole of our actions accumulates,

  The apocalyptic war is prepared by us,

  And by those before us!

  Which generation must we protect?

  Over the course of hundreds of thousands of years,

  Upon Earth the future ones are born.

  O, untimely universal humanity,

  There is inequality in the right to exist,

  For whose power do we fight?

  It is not proper food to digest,

  No generation can shape the humanity to be as it desires,

  Nothing is so dangerous an illusion,

  Than that the world as if for the existing generation alone has been!

  6.

  Being close with death,

  A weakening trembling enters to the heart.

  The mighty deeds transformed into a mere trumpet;

  From this agony opens the eyes to see this deathful world.

  How plentiful are one’s wrongdoings,

  How sinful does this sight make one feel,

  Yet being thus purified,

  Let this world make murder to be unheard of,

  To spend mortality to kill is the sphere of anti-life!

  I made my life to be what I have made it to be,

  Though in unison with chaos,

  But the lord of my actions I am!

  The seasons change,

  But for the joys we seek to guide our days,

  And like a harmless love,

  The honest wear no disguises.

  7.

  The mastery of life is in the eyes of the wise,

  The perceptive see the boundless life,

  Yet knowing the boundaries of the form;

  In this,

  Some see a lock, but never open it,

  Where the wise and intelligent begin to study the lock,

  Then after knowing the lock,

  Their thoughts create a key,

  And again and again see that there was no lock in the beginning with!

  8.

  Harvesting guilt,

  Without smile he walks in bitterness,

  Death approaches,

  And yet,

  Now with grief,

  Your existence is like a paper moon,

  A never ending season,

  A time standing still;
r />   I have persecuted it,

  Own self made poisonous against it,

  The persistence of memories,

  Not where the wounds of the healed time rest.

  9.

  Every evening I walk to liberate myself from the chains of today,

  Desire not I to slumber in the mistakes of the yesterday,

  My cold skin made to wine,

  Well I am sure what I have done,

  Causalities set into motion,

  In modern ages,

  Yet like a swan do the ancient dwell over the oceans deep,

  And as their crimes are founded deep,

  I fear not the waves of my own consequence.

  With the thousand folded ways of my existence,

  Summer is the home of the seasoned awakening,

  And so I inhale many of the ancient winds that blow.

  10.

  Chameleon,

  What miraculous virtue is made to manifest in you,

  The animal of transient skins;

  Let them all that have been in this time,

  Let that what is given for you to rise.

  As I now hold the spheres of good or evil in my hands,

  Measure the Human and the Inhuman,

  This division exists not in the immeasurable transiency.

  The beast in me,

  How many heads must I slain from myself for the sake of another!

  My pains of grief are not born of guilt,

  They are of understanding eyes over the consequences that spread,

  To it to have taken your tranquility,

  Away it has been carried from your being.

  Thus I rather turn the causality into laughter,

  Rather than slaughter all of the seen beastly heads,

  Loving empathy so speaks;

  That I seem to be forged from dualities.

  Refrain from the hunt even in persisting memories,

  For more you bind yourself than the accused,

  And what mortal time is there now for you to drink!

  11.

  No,

  Only the foolish seeks,

  To cut off the beastly head of his brother.

  Geography of all our heads,

  The star light of the nobility of his heart,

  Now returning to boyhood;

  Who can read what here my words hold?

  The point of no return they say,

  For cosmos it is not so,

  For the persistence of memories do we war,

  The things past long since gone;

  Where are they?

  May we not try again?

  Embracing the causes we now know to find,

  So do the star lighted men,

  The same cycles do others fall forever to repeat;

  The late marriage of Heaven and Earth made undone,

  But who comes to our brother’s inability to see something right now?

  12.

  The sacrificial blood,

  What horrors do you speak to me!

  Let my grief be the sacrifice,

  Yet what generation will you choose to be my judge,

  Millions are we in the continuum,

  The generations of humanity.

  Its forms are without eyes,

  A painting of transient canvases;

  If it is not me who takes the roots from the ground,

  It grows again.

  In the same way, in the sacrifice of time,

  Three days I join with grief,

  Then it is forever gone,

  For I am without sin, but I am with error;

  Fire and winds,

  Save these judges of the heart,

  You could not withstand the strength of these passions in sin!

  13.

  Of your sad mind rise the forces of vengeance,

  No prayers, but forgiveness is the way of the mortals,

  With errors we rose,

  And let the other err too!

  My fall was what ruined me,

  Brought the ugliness of the moment.

  With a laughter,

  So I meet those who accuse others who err in small matters,

  When your heart bleeds,

  Let it bleed the amount of tears you caused, but no more,

  For mortal you are,

  Like the river new life is born in you,

  Here are the true scales,

  Overly weighted by the guilt of our ancestors,

  I am my own judge,

  No other judge has there ever been!

  14.

  The half way is not the way to compete in the game,

  How ridiculous, yet as real as our thoughts these games are;

  I am the King of the purple skies,

  The truth is hidden in riddles to read,

  Spheres like music player in loneliness,

  Whose ears are there to hear them!

  Let my beloved be heard in me,

  Until my eyes are made to rot,

  Encourage them do I,

  With eyes fixed to mortality of my time,

  The birds will not shed tears for them,

  The dogs won’t laugh with them,

  My songs are the songs of my beloved friends!

  15.

  For the wandering are we born,

  No time, only existence matters,

  O these foolish coalitions,

  This game shall be soon undone.

  The games of the masses,

  Unfolding causalities,

  From an island you will not find these creations of our thoughts.

  The world of the liberated,

  Vainly the ancient coalitions in the present conspired against each other!

  But thought,

  Bringing them to the disciplines of the mind and body,

  Welcome the sweet clarity of the timeless generations;

  My world shall be yours,

  And by the ways of the ancestors, are you still so possessed?

  But vengeance hates this eye!

  These eyes are the eyes of tomorrow,

  And these eyes offend the roaring of the powerful!

  16.

  From time the game is set,

  A sterile mind surrounds the vital spheres,

  They are as good as they serve you,

  All is for mortals,

  All is in your accordance,

  For ruin are the sterile minds;

  Unlike dominion of the greatest among the dead,

  Minds that do not think for their own desires,

  Thoughts,

  The power of their wisdom must beacon,

  Not bind,

  Tell me what you see from the spheres of vitality!

  17.

  Like the thunder freedom shouts,

  Casual listeners of that voice,

  Who only understand,

  Yet are with either them or their,

  Between the realities are they without their own.

  He loved, as the noble respect the noble,

  Take your given freedom,

  Finding the sound you speak,

  From all the years without the guilt and blame of the time,

  And your life will not be a shallow grave,

  Persistently endures the sights to the past;

  Thus clouded the present is from the suns of the dawn.

  Whose seventh sphere now unfolded,

  I saw that to be the secret of the first moon,

  "Well," I say to you, "it may feel untamed to you.”

  Look again: The transient fires burn only those who cannot stand freedom!

  Our children of thought,

  In time they are grown.

  18.

  The comfort of the freedom,

  Of being without time,

  Of being without a generation,

  Of being without a culture from the millions,

  Of being without values but one’s own!

  There I am free to say:

  “I think what
I behold!”

  And with children of my time,

  My pleasures are not buried!

  Faith and these lords of the kingdoms of thought,

  But such a potent mind without impotence fault is made to joy.

  By my own thought,

  I have an open mind.

  These are not the wrongdoings of the compassionate,

  But who are such only inside the boundaries of the rules,

  When time has been made a judge,

  They condemned their child, their loved ones,

  Oh this foolish sphere of pain!

  19.

  Come lovely,

  The rights of the mortal,

  Walk the superior might of timelessness,

  Walk above them all,

  The generations of time,

  Do things not done before!

  Under the eyes of the transient nature,

  I found my happiness from sympathizing the causes of others of my kind,

  All life mortal, but free.

  Curse not errors of others,

  For there dwells the bitterness of the heart;

  O mortal, let the errors be made fun of,

  Imperfection is the sugar of this mortal cup!

  Indulge! Saw you masters of your domains?

  20.

  To never walk alone with them,

  How many times must your intelligence be made seen!

  “I swear to make my intelligence felt,

  For this fool who lives with me!”

  Thin skinned,

  Stupidity as the insanity for the intelligent,

  The exception allowed only for one’s own self,

  Like the Egyptian Pharaoh is one confined into loneliness,

  Like Prometheus,

  But with own bounds,

  Did you never feel the freedom to be extended this way,

  All you could do was to suffer from stupidity,

  Could it be that you were the fool in this?

  A holocaust caused by superiority,

  As we rate others below us,

  Never will they be mature in mastery of knowledge,

  Must you make them suffer from that,

  Instead of enjoying the stories of their lives,

  Singing their songs,

  Laughing with their joys,

  O you vain mortal,

  Must you be harsh for the ways outside the spheres of the genius!

  21.

  I never held valor,

  Yet I was not shallow or rude;

  We have battled about a match between light and darkness;