Dante's Inferno, What's the Worst that Can Happen?More Like This
Oct 17, 2012 by techgnotic
Sometimes in youth we play crazy mind games. One gruesome game was trying to think of the worst way to die. Or even better, the "which would you choose" version of the same conceit. Another was what would be the worst torture to endure. If there is one international touchstone that best captures youthful fears and wonders in speculation of what lies beyond the veil of death and awaits as possible punishment for our sins, it must be - to the few who have actually read it to the millions who "know" it – "Dante's Inferno." Who does not shiver at the thought of being lost somewhere in the "Nine Rings of Hell?"
Wings Of LightMore Like This
Wings Of Light
Upon me is the last dawn
Faded away has the last dusk
I leave behind all of the rights and wrongs
I don't deserve an afterlife that is also rough
Mesmerized in deep suspense
As I await the final arrival
My tears become so intense
These last moments of hope are vital
Allow me to break away
Accept the toll of my undying faith
I was careless as I fell
Mocking life itself
Every secret I held
Defined a broken side of myself
An inner slaughter I could not defend
A one-sided war that I could not fight against
My downfall is what I didn't want to prevent
I always lusted after the idea of my final descent
Because I knew that in the end I would ascend
All I can really do is live this divided life as best as I can
I realized that the only thing in perfection is being broken
And the only way to get rid of that is to wipe out my existence
Shine down and shine true
I will no longer be powerless
You don't know how long I've been waiting for you
The Tree and The ChrysalisThe Tree and The ChrysalisMore Like This
From the branch of an olive tree, there hung a tiny chrysalis the color of emerald.
Tomorrow it would be a butterfly, freed from its cocoon.
The tree was happy to see his chrysalis grown, but secretly he wanted to keep her a few more years.
As long as she remembers he'd shielded her from gusts, saved her from ants, but tomorrow she would leave to affront predators and poor weather alone.
That night, a fire ravaged the forest, and the chrysalis never became a butterfly.
At dawn, the ashes cold, the tree stood still, but his heart was charred, scarred by the flames, scarred by grief.
Ever since then when a bird alights on the tree, the tree tells it about the chrysalis that never woke up.
He pictures her wings spread flitting across a clear blue sky, drunk on nectar and freedom, the discreet witness to our love stories."
~ Bachir Lazhar
"After an unjust death, there is nothing to say. Nothing at all.
From the film ~ Monsieur Lazhar
Calling all olive branches an