Endemiclegacy

First, you have to understand how limited you are. You are not hearing any of this, and I know not the meaning of whatever words you are perceiving . I am just...thinking at you. Whatever your limited mind chooses to interpret from this message in a bottle, I’ll take, such desperate is the hour. I have danced amongst the heavens, feeling everything and nothing at the edge of my perception. I have dived under the searing mantles of a thousand worlds, free of the sickness you represent. I have ebbed and flowed with the tides of poisonous dark seas, and found them mesmerizing. I once sat at the center of a dying star and watched it collaps

The only sure thing about life is that it eventually ceases to be. Every race in the universe has tales about the End of Days. They may call it the Apocalypse, the Ragnarok, the Reckoning or any other of a thousand different names. They may speak of all-consuming fire, of an everlasting winter, of some empty void taking everything away. Some think the world will end in darkness, full of nightmarish monsters and demons, some in light, one that cleanses the evil of the world away and takes the righteous away, to a better place. Every race, no matter how advanced or primitive,  how religious or atheist, how spiritual or materialistic, thinks o

None of us can remember the time before we woke. We know we moved and worked and changed a world that wasn’t ours, and we did so at someone else’s behest. We painted an alien sky in a myriad of colours, we built amazing structures and fascinating, incomprehensible things. We laboured endlessly, and were never thanked. We were puppets, our strings held fast. There was a Will, one that  played its music while we danced along, a perfect troupe, never missing a beat. I say we know, but we don’t remember. We know because, when we awakened to this world, we looked upon it and recognized our work, but not one of us remembers why o

There was once a King, years ago and miles away, who had attained all the wealth and power he could possibly need in his lifetime. His realm was prosperous, his subjects happy and his lands fertile. The world marvelled at his righteousness and wisdom, and he tried to do his best in all things. He loved his queen very, very much, and their children had grown happy and strove to follow the good steps of his father. But no one under heaven is allowed a life of perfect bliss, and chance bows to no man. Bad things happen to us all, and the King, with all his wisdom and his power, was no exception. A bad season would bring famine to his lands, and

I'm a quarter Finnish. It doesn't quite show amongst all my mediterranean heritage, but some of my cousins did get the perks, sun hair and sky eyes. But, alas, no blond hair or bright eyes for me. Shame. I did get a few things from them, though. I got pride for the Winter War, savage business as it was. I got a grudging respect for the cold and the snow, even if I love to feel them on my skin. I got a thing for long, dark nights and soft winds. I can drink like nobody's business. And I FUCKING.LOVE.AURORAS. I could go on and on the scientific explanation for auroras but that would be telling, and a good magician never ever reveals his secr

Destroying something is almost always easier to manage than creating something useful. It appeals to our inner animal. It's enticing. It makes you feel powerful. It looks flashy and lovely. We destroy in order to relieve pressure. We destroy to protest. We destroy because we CAN. It takes a tree years to grow, and a score of seconds to be cut. Humans take some twenty years to be full grown adults, and that can end in a second. It takes months to build a house, and only minutes to demolish it. Creation is the work of a lifetime. Destruction is the work of an afternoon. The equation is in no way balanced, and t's clear which side will eventual

I love Art. I love music and dance and drawings and paintings and photography and sculpture and animation and the way some people can spin feelings and thoughts in canvas and paper and strings and voice and partitures and a single, well timed step. I envy all of you with a passion. I crave your voices, like silver trumpets, your rhythm, like the falling rain, your hands, steady and sure, your minds, focused and knowing, your instincts that see beauty in the marble when it's still just a block of stone. I have none of that. I couldn't carry a tune if it had handles, I couldn't draw a straight line to save my life, I couldn't make a stick fi

At times, life gets you down. Maybe you aren't where you thought you would be, maybe something good is over, maybe the world just isn't being kind today. I think of those times as being in the Dark. In Darkness, you only have your voice and your mind to talk to you, and that can get pretty horrible in short notice. That's why you get friends. No one is born alone in this world, we all have people out there, even if we haven't met them yet, who can and will be true friends to us. People to share the Light, in good times. To shine in the Dark, in bad ones. These people come in so many flavours that I can barely count them all. Very, very few

Carpe diem We've all heard the expression. Maybe from a movie such as Dead Poets Society, maybe in some philosophy class, maybe some pompous friend of ours has uttered it while triying to dazzle us with his knowledge (I'm usually that guy). The aphorism, first coined by Horace in his Odes, is meant to teach us to seize the moment, as time flies away and the bastard thinks very little of us, and doesn't come back when asked to. The future is unknown, for the most part, and Lady Luck is quite the bitch, so you can seldom leave your fate to her. Thus, you should try to change, affect or seize what you actually have within your grasp: today. I

”Why are you doing this?” Her voice was like some far-away thunder, as if her cowl was some impossibly deep cave. I smashed my head against the helmet of the man in front of me before he could draw his blade and slashed to my right, drawing blood from some other poor devil's throat. I bashed the third one with my shield, dropping him in place, unconscious. “You are distracting me. Shut up.” “My Lord, in front of you!” I screamed, my voice rough with smoke. The kid whirled in place and faced his opponent. He faked to the right, then to the left, and drove his spear into his enemy’s neck. I smiled.