+ l'art + philosophie +

The art of philosophy.

What a miracle it would be if there was a galaxy within our neurotic imagination, reining the timeless domain of our acuity. 

A domain where our memories are cast away to die, colliding the concepts of our minds into an orbit of extinct chapters telling our story.

Is that where our tales are devised?

Within an imploded star burdening our entire existence? Memories like splintering shells of coded galaxies swimming in our heads, astral debris falling from the quill in inscribed texts.

Or that our memories could smile back at us, like old friends. Veterans of the brutalities inflicted upon our bodies; cascading into a choir of scars.

What a beautiful notion it would be; a lament of astrological deities.

Folklore; a Hadean sunrise.

Reviews

[Aventicus]

If that was the outcome of our memories, then we would lead quite the miserable existence.

[alanwgraham]

I find your vision facinating. I think a lot about our internal world and the metaphor to describe it. I would be very interested to know your state of mind when you wrote this! I sometimes enjoy spells of mania when my view of the world becomes quite different. I definately become more creative and my writing 'opens up'. If you have the time would you have a look at my poems 'manicarus ' and Henry moore - shapeshifter.' Thanks, alanwgraham

[Davidgeo]

I'd do drugs with you....

Anytime.

I'm not going to review that... you don't review things like that.