the tyranny of the 24 Horae overruling all worlds

the tyranny of the 24 Horae

overruling all worlds

even the aetherial is in fetters of density

maiden of 24 decorated Hours, their endless series stretches on

who might escape solitude before an Ocean?

sweetest One....t'was but one-hour before the End.

24 beauteous virgins would block my sight

is there one more among them? beyond them?

My love, My love, My love... you do not belong here

crowned not with florets but horns

You do not belong there...My love, My love...

embosomed not with two ridgy breasts but a black hole

You are not one of the Hours...

Your escape from gods and men is not among the hours...

Singing mad women, you all are so joyless,

with bad grape-scented perfume

despicable mates you are with the divine

and inmates thou art in humanity.

The chorus sang derisively at me, eyeing the glorious Coming.

They mooned at me while uplifting their stinty rural skirts.

I am going to die...Good. Comes my own Hour.

Then my Love shall be spared of thisUniverse.

If I shall love a minute's worth the whole ugly Hour of Eternity.

even dense or loose fetters of air I would accept

let air sink, let air sink; give the yoke to a wild intelligence.

the chorus will end.

the dance of mad women had squeezed

all the wild grapes in the antiquated world

now more the barbed vines

want to milk even the modern and post-modern fruits

let the dancers fall dead in joy during their roundelay

and let the air sink...

my drinking horn is empty, I hold it with two hands

worried them finding out that

I ate the sculpted panther out of hunger in the banquet

thirst in my mouth too, so the words chose to silence themselves..

next Hour, is it coming?

next....I am going to die...

One More, I am going to die...

It is coming, and

the 24 mad virgins Horae were then crushed under the Wheel

bitter foes, farewell---

and the Wheel shall turn once more... An extra Hour will come!

At last, perhaps for the first time, a mortal Victory!

I have superfluous Time in my hand...the damaged horn...

I hold it... Just one hour more! Yes! Flow on!

But, Oh, wait wait wait..

Let me count with my many fingers, Oh

the Ocean on my palms

No... I was mistaken, spilling salty drops, the gyrating waves

It turns once more...

And the slippery Hour that strikes 12 then 12, then again

strikes the abysm of Nothing and Zero.

I did wait, Dion. I did the

Mandaliet, und

bibulous est; et biberam

but Man made sure himself that there is neither

one more hour beyond day, nor

one less hour before night

My sweetest...do you know that in an hour there is

at least more than 2:57 minutes? and I know,

I tell you that I know how much

11 is your luckiest number

and 12 is my unluckiest

My love, My love.. Do you know that

From my point of view, you are always

on the other side of the Moon?

while I look upon it, immobile Fate

the ocean called Eternity separates us

A Man living into the future,

And a Woman that does not exist in the past,

or in past hopes

shall never share a present,

under the horny beam of the gibbous moon.

…

O Fortuna

velut luna

statu variabilis,

semper crescis

aut decrescis;

vita detestabilis

nunc obdurat

et tunc curat

ludo mentis aciem,

egestatem,

potestatem

dissolvit ut glaciem.

Sors immanis

et inanis,

rota tu volubilis,

status malus,

vana salus

semper dissolubilis,

obumbrata

et velata

michi quoque niteris;

nunc per ludum

dorsum nudum

fero tui sceleris.

Sors salutis

et virtutis

michi nunc contraria,

est affectus

et defectus

semper in angaria.

Hac in hora

sine mora

corde pulsum tangite;

quod per sortem

sternit fortem,
///

Erebus sēcum plangit
/xx/x/x
'Quīspiam, illa, nūlla'
/xx/x/x

///
Erebi sēcum plangunt 
/xx/x/x

**Quisquam, ūllus, et Nūlla**! /x/xx/x