Mizahar


http://www.mizahar.com/forums/blog.php?page=Sorian&mode=index&sid=760e5f9cae7369957a06deb60cbaecfb&sid=5e3cb1d3b9c636073459a21d385f9955
Author:  Sorian [ January 22nd, 2010, 9:52 pm ]
Blog Subject:  The road to the end.
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Fleeting away as arrows free from constraint
are the days I enjoyed with no restraint;
left are the questions, the quandaries that seek,
answers to explain morose days so bleak.
To how the listless, injured, struck down heart
once laden with but toil is now torn apart.

It is nature to men to keep their gait,
and promise glory when in defeat he bathes.
Neither one ever the end of what he sought;
takes never the outcome for which he fought;
self-duty serves the dish prepared too cold,
his fate alas is carved in bone, not gold.

And each dark sign floating in my head
I wish was gone, but strives return instead.
Rings true each full feeling with abandon;
holding fast these hands from action.
They lure me to sleep and worn by song
yet they sing but truthful lies and rightful wrongs.

The noose hangs lightly over the shrill wind,
echoing the moments and times I sinned;
sunlight comes, a glimmer, a ray of light
descends down to bend one’s plight.
And in a hold of black, a silver tear
drops as salvation draws ever near.

I pray I may in my times of grief,
remember that suffering is always brief
in the hearts of those who wish to live;
So sally forth, strong heart, and believe.

Though strength in part I may or not possess,
my own I’ll keep to stay beyond duress
when time demands I show these dreams to see
what truths life and death requires me to be.

January 23, 2010
Author:  Sorian [ January 10th, 2010, 4:28 pm ]
Blog Subject:  Sacrifice > Service
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"Each one of us here today will, at one time in our lives look upon a loved one and ask the same question: 'We are willing to help Lord but what, if anything, is needed?' It is true that we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don't know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not the part that we have to give is not wanted. And so it is those that we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them. We can love completely, without complete understanding."


- a sermon from the movie / autobiographical novella A River Runs Through It
Author:  Sorian [ January 6th, 2010, 2:11 pm ]
Blog Subject:  The Sending
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A truth could be scratched out from the honest landscape of life,
of its frivolous necessities and selfish contradictions..
For the smallest minute of heaven we spend on earth,
we pay in ghastly stipends without qualms.

A surrendered ambition to fleet into the mist covered trees crumbles,
to escape this collector’s harsh taxes on our poor beings,
all but reduced to the wishful thinking of a couple of artists
who vowed to disappear not too soon.

Alone I’ll charge into the moonlight emanating your silhouette,
and crash against the softness of your departing warmth.
To hold on to the home we’ve built on lofty skies,
I’d be willing to fall apart over and over again.

And so I shall..
The parting ceremonies ring dry but true to my senses.
With every wicked drumbeat it shakes my roots,
like a frail leaf hanging on a storm-ridden tree.

The heavens are falling, and the days are morose..
Everything rich has been rent asunder with those necessities.
Finality has drilled in the difficult facts that make us mortal,
caving in like the soft brown earth from above.

When twilight comes, we lay to sleep..
Pass into the judgment of those we seek to find.
All is gone, and those which remain,
remain indeed.. To keep faith
till obscurity engulfs their dreams.



Original written: October 3, 2008
Author:  Sorian [ January 2nd, 2010, 7:54 pm ]
Blog Subject:  Of spiritual education and the war vs. poverty
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For all the ugly makeshift lives, the blatant lack of comfort and the repugnant odors of reality which poverty entails, nothing is more lethal among its effects than the deterioration of the stricken man's desire to uplift himself in the most important way: morally.

A world of rampant corruption, crime and an ever-growing void in spirit. This is the society which we live in. The world of yesterday, today and most likely, tomorrow. It is a hierarchy of earthliness supported by the atrophy of the human being's desire for what is right and what is morally good. Everything around us is motivated by financial and material needs; for the sake of securing a little bit of comfort the most disturbing of natural phenomena--human sin--is born.

Following in the footsteps of each and every event in society can be a cruel, despicable task, yet experiencing it in full is a far more horrible dose of reality.

There is the father who struggles desperately to support the family he has sired. He wanders into the city to carve out a living not of the harsh sun of the fields, in the hope that the new life he wanders into would be a kind redemption to a fate originally tied to the soil. This promise is quickly drowned out by the backlash of hunting for the mirage of success in a true city of life and death. He goes into hibernation in squalid apartments, where the stink of garbage rotting in fetid, polluted creeks invades the senses in each and every passing moment. Unable to find any sort of decent job due to a lack of ability to even spell out his name or read it, he resorts to crime as a last ditch effort, for survival, only to be caught in the firing line of human justice and be handed over to the oblivion that is the city jail.

Then there is the mother who, with her ragged clothes and destitute...


[ Continued ]
Author:  Sorian [ December 31st, 2009, 5:44 pm ]
Blog Subject:  Afternoon Yellow Fevers
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Lines and shades of light hewn features,
painted blazingly by a distant hand
deviate mandatorily from the fire-signed raptures
of a permanent melancholy,
springing in abundance upon colorful stories..
like the breaking dawn of life.

A waking bed under mystic eyes
donned under contracting, undulating words,
that speak of proud, makeshift smiles,
gallant yet adorned by mere necessity..
The essence sewn into formality..
and the affinity,
cascading down like angel feathers
by the wide, bright sea.

They permeate the distance
between two beating jewels,
drunk with fraud and failure..
a taste of rare liquorish,
and the tiniest semblance
of heaven and hell
in the belittling wilderness of man's animosity.
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