Nathrangking

Emerald mountain.

Sweet cinnamon is wafting.

Paints

The bejeweled hills.

Awash in dawn's mighty light.

Divine brushstrokes.

Sorry for being silent for a while! Things have been nuts over here as you might imagine. We are fine. I also got back to writing a bit here is a new sonnet. As always feel free to let me know what you think.

The Raging Unbound

Tell me tales of crashing light and darkness.

Weapons are clashing, shaking the whole world.

Armies on ruby fields that none harness.

Stained freely slaughtering weapons are hurled.

Lost purity as the earth is glutted.

The mountains are dust now, choking the skies.

Regions once great are utterly gutted.

Where once goodness stood reality dies.

Burning stars illuminate destruction.

A soft voice of healing halts them in place.

Raw wounds close and gone is the corruption.

All of the carnage goes without a trace.

What was cast out is truly made anew.

Time will recall what a goddess made true.

To all I wish a season of light and peace in these dark and terrible times!! The hatred may rule now but may this season's light soon heal and redeem us from what we have beheld!! חג אורים שמח and merry Christmas to all!!

Despite the rising hate my wife and I are well I even wrote two new Haiku!!

Fields so verdant glow.

Soft light dances on swift feet.

Silent music wafts.

Pearl clouds split in twain.

The light pouring as water.

Chase away the dark.

I had promised my wife this for our wedding a little more than two weeks ago. It was unfinished until last night.

What do I say?

Stars in heaven, jewels, so sublime what can I say now in this moment when I am lost in your light? How can the cosmos be stricken with shadows so thick and oppressive and be chased away? Shrouds wrapping us in warmth illuminate the whole of the world pushing us into a place between dreams so divine. Region lashed in agony oh so painful yet there is a balm. Land eroded and tempests blow tossing about everything that the eyes can gaze upon and see. So many racing blows deflecting away painting the whole of the world in its power. Unrelenting might clashes ever so violently over the earth crushing it and ripping it asunder. Innocent and guilty where can they hide when all is rendered as nothing less than primordial rubble? Are there tears left to cry or is the ocean gone from here? Something comes now and all of the light is transmuted into a world, a universe nay a new reality as a tempest is born.

Gales of purity wash away the corruption down to the base of all things reaching into the icy depths and pulling forth infinite suns.  They arise now and wipe away tears with a most gentle hand. What carnage spreads across the realm is no more and in fact, is lost to all memory. Forests of rot burn away utterly and completely leaving life itself flourishing as never before. Can a comparison be made between the most indescribable beauty who alone outshines every treasure that has ever existed and can ever exist? Speech is lost forever in a single moment so perfect that the dark splinters and is no more. Lost and found am I in light so sublime no art exists to compare now or ever again. Time may die and forever go even then you will live on. The immortality of humanity cannot approach divinity. All the universe may race away but in the end of all, you will be there to embrace me again.

As promised I'm checking in. My wife and I as well as could be expected given the circumstances. We are devestated by what is happening in Israel and around the world. We need all the allyship and prayers we can get. Will check in again soon stay safe be well.

I have no intention to create a political forum here. I have a few words to say and I'll leave it at that. I got married two days ago. To the woman that I love most in the world. A woman about whom I have written many a poem. I regret nothing, but the timing. As you may or may not have heard the worst war in the history of Israel. The carnage is unspeakable and sure to get worse. I almost felt wrong getting married amidst the death and slaughter. We were I suppose a light in the darkness that has fallen as a cloak so thick as to be blinding. Remember to be the light in the dark never feel guilty for being happy because you deserve it!!!

Poem # 49

Price

Mountains heave their shoulders upward roaring in rage sending their fiery words into the heights where clouds deeper than the abyss obscure them. Rivers gouge gorges into the earth as even gods fall away at the approach of the molten ocean pulled from the burning soul of this accursed place. Vulcan lacks the power to chain fury that peels the world back so that pestilence can turn bones into nothing more than shattered fragments. Warriors are lit aflame; their armor is slag pools that bathe Ceres and bring out screams that race tirelessly across the whole of humanity’s world. Cities simply vanish into unending darkness their inhabitants consumed instantly. Nothing remains, but the blazing earth and shroud of pitch that specters pull over a universe that is only a husk. Not even the carrion survive in a world devoid even of gods whose influence while at times unfelt held together the sundered cosmos.

Beyond all of the death and above pillars of a temple of death that rises from carnage incarnate a single jewel on high glows. It rushes downward and with a single blow slashes through the haze and solemn silence. A clarinet of diamond that radiates with a blinding inner power sounds from the midst of a star given the flowing form of flesh. Eyes alight gaze about as music chases choking clouds into oblivion. Each note turns back the flow of time itself, restoring the whole of existence to what it was before if slightly more than it had been. Mortals and immortals once lost now erupt from the aether as though they had not widowed kingdoms. Crowns crumble from the heads of those who rise at the hand of a tune more divine than those who had demanded worship and offered little in return. Forests of both wood and stone teem again as the song never dies or slows. She who plays weaves art that envious primordials admire from below as they too for all time shall know the cost of rule.     

Poem #48. I decided to write this and spring it on my love on our 1 Year anniversary!!

Song Revival

Spirits desolate and forlorn in not simply appearance fettered by chains drenched by tears spilled without end wander upon paths scorched by unyielding heat and roving bands that thirst to take and possess all that there is in this world. I am among them so utterly withered and beaten until my wounds have allowed the earth to feed until it is sick with a glut. There are carrion lustily soaring around my head seeking to take what little can honestly still be said to be mine at all and then move on to others whose forms they could leave to rot as my soul had. Whether I was alive or dead I could never say for sure for could the specter stripped not of its flesh, but robbed so completely that one could wonder what remained, be considered anything definable by the tongue of mortals? Carnage is the tableau spread out beneath our feet and before our sight that so wished that it could not know what has unfolded. Warriors who might have stood by us where were they when the enemy came to ignite the conflagrations and cast a blanket of frigid damnation that violated the world in ways too terrible even for monsters that reside in places where none venture? No weapons could have chased away horrors that I might wish were simple phantoms that I imagined to be real. They reached their blades deep into my being dragging from me pleading and whimpering raw and untempered such as the world never heard before from my lips. Memory and time became meaningless in this place of twilit agony abject and truly given a life of its own that was a plague that needed no name to summon to itself terror.

Though in an instant this twilight became an illuminated universe all its own illuminated by songs created by the being of a goddess that could never be equaled in any plane or dream. She reached out to me with eyes kinder and more filled with wisdom than any human could ever hope to be in an eon of eons that were beyond the eternal reach of time itself. With her right hand, she swept aside the wraiths that rent me healing me by suffusing my whole being with a tune that surges mightily through my blood upon feet swift and sure. That left hand raises me from the ashes of a world disintegrated and shattered bringing me somewhere perfectly sublime because it was a realm in which she resided and had deigned to bring me. Those birds that had crowned me fled before an aria so pure that if the universe were capable of weeping it would never be able to stop itself from breaking down. Mirth holds me close flying from me whenever I think of where I am now and smiles are what I am when I see her in all of her glory wondering how I was worthy of this blessing. Cosmos of wealth would be of no value without what I now have been allowed experience for even the slightest moment and were some being to offer an exchange I would toss it away preferring her to any transitory bauble. Empress mine, savior, and queen that we walk side by side is so much more than I might ever have imagined even were I to live for all of the epochs of history. This world of ours is a paradise for it being ours alone I would live in the depths of purgatory itself if it meant that we would not be parted. For all time we together rule sovereign of my heart now and forevermore.

Happy Birthday!! Here is to many more awesome years!!

# 46

Strand

Mountains wearing crowns of the purest crystal are alight with infernos ignited by ravenous flames birthed in the most secret places of the world. They dance and leap with a might that no deity could ever match for ferocity or intensity. It is as though each movement is made of the very essence of the primordial fire that spawned all others of its kin. These cannot be held in check by any prison and a roar that tears free ranges and tosses them into the depths sets them loose. Heavens are set ablaze and unending waves of teal and crimson purge all in their path. Laments and prayers fuse with the crackling music that is all that can be heard by those whose tears have unknown sources. Sunsets of gold and peach fuse with brushstrokes chaotic and yet inspiredly applied. None in all of existence can stand before it as it sweeps across the whole of the realms and for a moment all hope is lost. Beauty in carnage is a shroud fallen and shackles that are binding a reality lost for all time. Cities are rubble oceans are empty pits, and forests older than imagination sit silent as shattered shadows. Even gods powerless and stripped of name and kingdom slouch with vacant eyes among the ashes so full of vibrancy.

In the poisoned atmosphere of despair, a sudden pure note rises up and begins to pain its own masterpiece where a bitter master had worked. Slowly life pushes up through ash and death that has taken root as if it was always supreme. Specters so dry in charred bone return to life as their flesh returns and eyes once sightless have twinkles restored. Children walk again where once games of youth existed and bring with them ringing laughter. Sadness retreats when the birds lost sing once again and summons the cacophony of nature from the void that had taken them. Ruin is undone utterly and somehow that which rises is somehow more sublime than it had been before. Oceans flow again when rain falls and shines brighter with a truer warmth beneath a sun whose light is just a little bit mightier than before. Strength does not return to those who mourned after all was lost rather they are left among the mortals to understand if only for the first time. Those raging hands that tore down the songs that now sing fade not to the heights, but into the strains and brushstrokes of that which they would have destroyed. As the tune of creation reumes the quiet magic that rewove all settles into its place subtle and hidden as healer and sovereign.

A happy Passover and Easter to those who celebrate these holidays!!

And #45

Treasured Sound

Melancholy winds softly wind from a source deep in the heart of the mountains that ascend to the very heights. They bring with them tales whispered by voices that are alone in this realm as they are but shades of worlds once so vibrant that their glow would illuminate the plane from one end to the other. If countless legions were to attempt to remember the lost majesties that now scatter across the realms as so many treasures pillaged and hidden away. Cities once glorious paved with diamond and sapphire mosaics and gold overflowing beyond what any would have ever thought possible. Wisdom sprouted as forests that warded away the blazing sun with might unknown even to legions fashioned by hands soaked in divine lifeblood. Roads that once rejoiced and were without parallel now have nothing, but reverie to keep them company as the cold of winter comes. 

Now from the quiet places of the world comes an army, not like those that burn their way through the realm with rage leaving only death behind. What music comes from flute, tambourine, lyre, and the mouths of spirits made real and given forms truer than any that exist among mortals. Garments resplendent with warmth call forth vitality that restores the pathways to their former glory. The uncountable musicians revive the groves with their steps while magic gathers back those myriad sent away. Children sing now and beam with a joy that inspires the whole of the cosmos to join them in an untainted harmony. Oceans, skies, hills, and deserts bring the glory of the stars and sublime down to earth. Their leader wears a melodious crown whose wondrous form is everywhere and nowhere all flesh synchronizes with its resonating melody this new calm settles over all. 

Here is #44

Strains Reformed 

Waters carrying a blessing most divine rush upon feet of crystal through valleys and hills carved by hands long gone. The primordials that mortals once worshipped and relied upon to raise from the dust cities and empower them to wage war against their enemies have themselves gone to faraway realms of sleep. Where they are none can say, but the beauty of the rising and setting sun or the passing of the seasons is dulled so that they are very nearly void despite the icy magic that is keeping the land from crumbling into the most horrific sort of hellscape. Dregs from the very soul of this world are what remain. Tears are drenching the whole of the cosmos drowning the flora and chasing away even the mightiest of titans that would once have uprooted mountains at a whim. Haunting dirges weave a tapestry over the slowly dying world sealing a realm so lost that even the smallest spark of hope is long since snuffed out by the rising rivers expended by those who mourn. 

Up above despite the utter devastation a stirring of light dances in the shadows and begins to chase away the deep despair that is a shroud nay a second skin grafted into the very being of this dimension. It counters sorrowful screams with tunes first soft and comforting and then ever stronger and more invigorating than ever before. Each note lifts away agony and desolation instilling might in cowed kingdoms that now rebuild so much that has been forgotten. In the streets where rubble and whimpering existed now are the sweetest of songs that inspire and produce images of magnificence that seem too surreal to have ever been imagined by human minds. Radiant palaces, gardens, and every other manner of royal amenity become the stuff that ascends from the ruins of the old world. Aria that is above and below your musician is hidden yet their magnificence shall reign forevermore. 

And #43

                                                         Anthem of Olympus

Sunlight laying its hands upon frozen and unmoving earth is all that any mortal eye can perceive when it gazes upon this plane of existence. Apollo and his lyre bless the universe with songs that cause the heart of the cosmos to beat. Seas still beneath Khione’s breath and dances to and fro almost imperceptibly. Winds whisper up above of the battle waged by the daughter of Boreas and the son of Zeus. No armies march across the icy lands to clash their weapons or spill blood to sate untempered thirst. A son and daughter born of raging lords try to prove their might for the sake of the rulership that is not theirs. The frigid kingdom wages its war against the heir of Helios and the master of the skies. Eagles fly not as amusement takes the lords on high and makes them giggle at the foolishness of the spawn of the divine. The huntress begins to shower Olympus with arrows of silver as even the lord of the deep ascends to speak his piece. Civilization begins to shrivel as flames and ice obliterate everything that humanity has struggled so long to build. Walls tumble, breath falls, stone melts and rivers run as molten stone. Steam from the seas inspires ire from the Earthshaker as he demands that this foolishness end. Forests are both ash and fragments of most cold wood. Pallas in her armor stands at her father’s side, but even she sheds a tear and her strength appears to fade. Hestia tends to her hearth having no heart to take sides, but raising her eyes to the stars above. She moves her lips and song beyond the ken of Phoebus bursts forth from among the stars. Snow and cold melts away while the heat is tempered and awakens the Spring. Deities who have done war are cast into an abyss never ending while a flute calls forth a new world. Healing closes the wounds both new and old as the melody is woven into the fabric of the land forevermore.

Behold #42  

                                                                   Oratorio 

Music how you waft through the skies blanketing the whole of the realm in a cloak that dispels and drives the darkness away from the souls that wander in peace. Moments turn to eternities until the world is enrapt and a dance begins. Mountains and hills are filled with neverending light spinning and clapping in harmony. Halls are home to feasting that divinities call sacrifices owed to them. Legions carry banners that wave in the wind and declare the names of a thousand kingdoms joined by unity everlasting. Fires of emerald and gold burn and ascend up to the heights of the heavens. Stars crowned with glory illuminate everything that exists heralding an age of rule. Zeus in his throne of ivory judges humanity with envy as Bacchus and Jupiter have festivals all their own. Storms blasting from the farthest reaches of the cosmos fly forth to descend upon those who are guilty and blameless. Typhon laughs and Etna churns as the burning soul of the mountain shatters the region. Smoke billowing blocking out Phoebus’ glowing beams smothers even the temples that glorify those who are unworthy of praise. Plutus and his wealth are stripped from the very depths by marauders bearing both the spear of Pallas and the shield of Ares. The heavens are torn by the armies of gods warring to the sound of tunes sublime beyond reckoning. They reach deep into the past and cause enemies to pause their ever-so-violent actions for a time. Death stills its hands from destroying everything that lives because tears start to form in its eyes. Devastation tears apart every city and nation until nothing at all remains in the entirety of the universe. Fractured and ended is the plane of both humans and primordials until something comes from beyond the shadows of the upper spheres. A figure draped in notes of sublime sound restores that which has been lost. Soft waves carry and soothe all of the carnage away.

Quick SU. Poem 40 was written with a purpose in mind. In essence, it was used as part of a proposal. Said proposal was accepted.

I give you number #41

Blight of Shadow

Mars with gladius drawn races now across sands aflame beneath the might of Amun Ra shaking the whole of the cosmos beneath his steps. Above in the skies, Isis and Minerva are locked in combat most deadly rending the heaven and turning the flesh of the lord and mistress of the earth into nothing more than ash that wafts blindingly across the field of battle. Mortal legions glut the decimated ground and are swallowed whole while the bane of Osiris stands beside the jackal-headed lord sweating and bleeding before the tempests that shear flesh from the bone without mercy. Vultures descend upon them as the twins riddle Horus with shot after shot until he plummets down as a comet to never again rise from the dead as his father. The Nile is now gold and filled with so many slaughtered. Temples are torn down to their roots and are nothing more than shattered husks. Treasures buy no mercy from Jupiter and Minerva when they smite the barge of the sun and the master of Chaos. Screams how they fly and only grow when even the blasted wilderness is no more. Two heads see the beginning and end with apathy responding not to those who are led away beneath the watchful eyes of Bacchus. Those that remain Isis in her rags, her husband whose crown is lost in the depths, and the sky itself are bound and led to the river that brought low the favored one of the new city. Raised is the laurel and son of the tamer of Gaul. Somewhere in the deserts, two lovers broken sleep eternally and are hidden from those who would take them to be the prizes of gluttons. A curse stalks the victors seeping into them and subtly leeching at them in ways that none can heal. Laughter as Sybil blinded, eternally weeps. A throne taken is inhabited by phantoms who replaced the flesh and blood when the upper and lower lands fell to silence without end.

More precisely #40 will be most special soon. I suppose I'll write a SU when it does become more than just another poem.

#40 A particularly special one in my opinion.

Sonata of the Stars

Hear me infernos of silver that watch now a world plunged into the depths of a damned realm that spawns monstrosities beyond imagining. Earth torn asunder so totally that screams of the primordials fly skyward begging that mercy be extended to mortal and immortal alike. Hordes without end, endless bestial armies drench the ground in spilled scarlet and gold. Cities are brought to ruin, choking the air with smoke and dust that seep into the wounds of the dead and dying. Children orphaned of all are desolate and alone while Woods from the very beginning of all remembering crumble and fade into the stuff of memories that only oblivion can and will remember. Screaming piercing the cosmos and tearing gashes in the tapestry of the upper realms does nothing to sway cold flames that consume the obliteration of everything with absolute dispassion. Tears boiling as seas expose the bones that few have ever seen go unanswered while all flesh bound to this plane is lost.

From amongst the prayers launched as a sun-blotting rain of arrows comes now a voice to soothe away the agony that has pared away all but the slightest sliver of meat from the spirits of those who once lived. She descends at speed, tossing aside any protests from those who lust for living sacrifices. That host that has left the desiccated husk of a once glorious and filled with vitality roars when spears of those whose voices are now silent fill them with every moment of pain, dread, despair, and loss that they evoked and carved into their victims. Deserts sprout even as the waters of the oceans rush to return to their sources healing the mother that was bereft of her children. Stones that were reduced to no more than powder now ascend into edifices ever more magnificent than humans could ever create. All the while, music most sublime is played by the hands of she who pulls down the stars and as something more precious than even a deity could reckon brings dreams long sought into this void. A reign not sought begins and will not end until long after the lights of the sky are no more.

I tried, but I just can't kick this habit. I may as well stop trying. Here is Poem #39.

                                                                  Forget No More

Stars spill from the very heights as if pulled from their perches on high by some monstrous hand and cover the world in their soft light. The great upper expanse grows darker as all of the radiance exposes the ways that even the most sacred of groves are being pillaged and the deities whose shrines are being defiled simply turn away to shed their tears instead of raising gauntleted hands to stem the corruption that is leeching peace from the realm. Cities are breached and their secrets are exposed to those who draw forth sword and shield in the name of wreaking bloody vengeance. Oceans are scarlet and those wild beasts that escape slaughter feed in a frenzy the stench of offal wafting up as a sign of what this wretched plane has become. Weeping so bitter is louder than even the clashes that so tear apart family and bond rending civilization itself until all that is left are the most frayed of threads drenched in tears and stained by lifeblood expended in vain. What now then can become of this broken place? None arise to act and crumbling walls appear to be all that will even be remembered.

From that place where the revelations have come one remains above that which was wrought upon her siblings. From her comes illumination of a different sort ever known before to the mortal souls that freeze in place. It is warm, but not destructive in nature cool waves fly forth and yet it does not still raging hearts. Calming music plays along the flowing waters that she rides down upon a barge of the most wondrous sounds. They weave together and are at the same time more beautiful than every work of art that human or divine hands ever wrought. Jewels are dead stones when brought up in comparison. Sleek and sinuous nothing of its like could even be thought of much less ever truly described without casting the worst of insults upon it. Where it goes rifts close as if an enchantment was rewriting the nature of reality itself. All of the carnage ceases when it faces this power and the corruption burns away with a shriek that shatters mountains. Those who descended rise again anew and more than they had been when they were set adrift. As all heals she returns on high and restores light to a place that forgot what illumination truly means.

Can't kick the habit. Here is Poem #38 based on my muse.                                        

                                                                Even into Shade

Hear my voice stars whose glow is the merest flicker in shadow as ascendant walls of the most precious jewels light the whole of the world. Mountains gentle in their run race to speak of the coming of the empress. Song comes from the ocean waves and the birds in flight whose music spins magic that entrances the universe and forces even the divine to question whether they have ever known beauty or wisdom. The entirety of the cosmos is frozen and simply carried into a reverie. They remember the whole of history even those moments that have not yet taken place. How the creatures of the mortal plane dance as creation seems to be rejoicing and yet trembling within as well. Gold hidden within the earth dulls and melts away into the rivers in shame while the highest mountains bow and allow their crowns to fall to the ground where they will never again be claimed. Willows weep their endless tears in joy now and sway in prayers that they cannot help but hope will be answered. Ruby, emerald, burnt orange, and all hues that can even be imagined are yielded by the natural realm for a tapestry meant for the most royal one. Night and day are not meaningful for even the merest instant before her arrival is too long to bear. Every breath is held as now she descends now from heights not of this place, but of a dimension more sublime than can be contained in a few weakened and lame words. A circlet aflame upon her brow. Tunes containing in them knowledge never bound fly from an uncorrupted spirit. Her throne is not in the crags nor even in the heart of the bejeweled fortress that spawned from the depths. She sits at the gates of the palace making treasures lose any perceived wealth. There is no coronation for she is and always has been the most regal goddess to be perceived by any and all faculties. Let sovereigns carry her name as their mistress until darkness ascends to take all else. 

I give you Poem # 37. It has been more than a month I know, but here we are again. I hope that you enjoy it!

Revelation of Illumination

The stars fracture into thousands of sparkling fragments and so much dust that fills the cosmos with the most sublime light. Deities locked in battles that send tremors throughout the heights hack and slash in frenzied jealousy. Their hands reach out to subsume this illumination for themselves. Worlds crumble as powers clash with unquenchable violence that spills golden ichor across the canvas formed from the flesh of the primordial ruler of the higher realms. Cacophony shreds those walls meant to hold reality still. Spears skewer legions even while oceans of arrows seek blood to spill. Temples and sanctuaries are no refuge from the carnage whose ferocity is only growing. Waves sweep all into a hellish nightmare that has exposed the innocent to horrors that will not end. All is being consumed with a gluttony that burns fear even into the spirits of war whose own hunger relishes morsels as they now have available to them. Crowns fall and are upraised again to continue the fight.

From the most hidden place comes something mightier than the screams of agony and bellows of challenge that are carved into the brutalized and whimpering form of the mortal plane. First, a single note pierces the din silencing everything for an eternity bound in the costume of an instant. Then more music spins and twists weaving something indescribable that smothers all of the nightmarish sounds that stand armed for conflict. Behind them a figure wielding nothing, but the sound of her voice emerges into the field so drenched in death. Refrain after refrain encircles armies sending them to where they can harm no more. Gods and goddesses are stripped of all authority and cast away into an abyss carved from their callous destruction. That desired radiance flies forth returning all that was lost. Awesome serenity falls when the final strain of the song ends. Hers is the throne in the midst of light renewed and a tune mysterious and ever present in the mists of all worlds.