The Light Society - Ch 6

CHAPTER 6: Mother of an Empire




Light flung around the young woman in yellow as she exclaimed, “I too am the mother of empires!”


The woman in blue, in her Camelot coat, as if beaten by the great waves of light, attempted in vain to speak, to take the steep and deep dip into the conversation.


“If it were possible to know what is beyond,” said White, “where all objects at odds wear the devil skin suit, in the place where the emperor says forever to the wounded men, ‘To think for yourself, what good is it? Not the slightest.’ as he settles there among the dying.”


“My children, my warriors of light, I wish to illuminate the incomprehensible empires. Yet, upon my breath a rendezvous with death, hanging over me its heavy wreath,” said Black.


“I can recall my last opiate dawn, with nothing on in the bath,” said White.


“I drew for you the clear sky over the freshest green like that very last dream, the clean caress of loneliness,” replied Black.


“We found our bliss in the abyss, with the devil’s teeth tearing the flesh,” said White to Black who, writhing in agony, was being carried into the house.


“Marriage for love or marriage for children to maintain the hereditary land,” said White.


“It behooves you to wait and watch the rolling of the wind, the lusty stillness of nature,” said the man in green as Black was dragged off by the honey winged sun birds.


“The ornaments of a great song, large bellied, the long mast of the dark bowed ship swinging to the fine stream of sound,” spoke the woman in orange.


Pulled from his unenvied thrown the man in black, courting peaceful sleep, escaped the land of men and light of day. He had been flawing his primal mind in the building sun fire and so fled as the wizard rat dissappears into the shade to meet another in the halls of darkness.


“It is my duty to rouse the sea,” said Red staring deep into the eyes of the woman in violet on the grass.


“Upon the green hillocks in the after rain,” said Violet again taking him trumpet tongued up to the roof beams.


“The whistling gift when two men kissing on the lips find the promise of a nightmare impaled on a cyclone,” said Indigo as he lay down near the couple, under the burning sun.


“The vespers of song, hair ribboned with tiny serpents, chariots of the shadowy falls, feasted in the open country, on this side of the river of rich white milk,” said Blue as she joined the three cutting up the land like jewelry, and ran her lips across their nakedness.


The silky young men and women sat devouring the fruit of the land, which sprung from their trunks, breathing as to relish life, to shield it from the mid day sun.


“Watch her where she plays with her lights, in the violet shadow,” said White to the woman in orange.


“Feeling for the ever opened wound,” said Orange to the woman in white.


Gently the man in green put his fingers between her thighs from behind and whispered into her ear, “In the body of the great trembling serpent, we witness again the ballet of pale lips dropping milk honey, pouring from within an infinity of vistas.”


The seven adapting to the waves of heaven opening eyes wide under the watery twilight, drowned in pleasures well enough to die while the woman in white, grabbing limbs, flash danced to the pricks spiring and probing throats, occasionally dipping her hands back in the wet sand.


“From seemingly robust underworlds we preach the gospels of light. We transmit the future,” spoke the violet woman sucking at the thick air while being penetrated and filled with Red’s warm glowing oil.

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