54ce51ba   
   XPost: rec.music.makers.bass   
   From: mitchelldickson@bellsouth.net   
      
   "Rexsy"  wrote in message   
   news:a4cdf916-80db-48d4-8aa8-f3bf87fc8bef@w24g2000prd.googlegroups.com...   
   > "Surrounded by natural beauty of nature, one contemplated deeply into   
   > the nature of thought and its images of world phenomena. Details of   
   > events, images, sounds, feelings, and all things were examined   
   > silently without any movement of the conscious observer, for the   
   > silent mind is extremely subtle of great delicacy in its mysterious   
   > beauty.   
   >   
   > The shadow of lights, convoluted with various spectral intensities,   
   > represents the profound architecture of life; its reality in the   
   > illusive dynamic Universe. Gentle breeze could be felt with great   
   > pleasant scent of flowers.   
   >   
   >   
   > The mind was utterly still, where perception and non-perception could   
   > no longer exist. It was extremely empty. Empty of any causes,   
   > desires,   
   > motives to transform, become...It was absolutely empty. The birds   
   > enjoyed chattering under the morning Sun of a new day."   
   >   
   >   
   > Rexsy   
      
   Yeah Yeah Yeah.  Here try this Rexsy:   
      
   I hate the moon-   
   I am afraid of it- for when it shines on certain scenes familiar and loved   
   it sometimes makes them unfamiliar and hideous.   
      
   It was in the spectral summer when the moon shone down on the old garden   
   where I wandered; the spectral summer of narcotic flowers and humid seas of   
   foliage that bring wild and many-coloured dreams. And as I walked by the   
   shallow crystal stream I saw unwonted ripples tipped with yellow light, as   
   if those placid waters were drawn on in resistless currents to strange   
   oceans that are not in the world. Silent and sparkling, bright and baleful,   
   those moon-cursed waters hurried I knew not whither; whilst from the   
   embowered banks white lotos-blossoms fluttered one by one in the opiate   
   night-wind and dropped despairingly into the stream, swirling away horribly   
   under the arched, carven bridge, and staring back with the sinister   
   resignation of calm, dead faces.   
      
   And as I ran along the shore, crushing sleeping flowers with heedless feet   
   and maddened ever by the fear of unknown things and the lure of the dead   
   faces, I saw that the garden had no end under that moon; for where by day   
   the walls were, there stretched now only new vistas of trees and paths,   
   flowers and shrubs, stone idols and pagodas, and bendings of the   
   yellow-litten stream past grassy banks and under grotesque bridges of   
   marble. And the lips of the dead lotos-faces whispered sadly, and bade me   
   follow, nor did I cease my steps till the stream became a river, and joined   
   amidst marshes of swaying reeds and beaches of gleaming sand the shore of a   
   vast and nameless sea.   
      
   Upon that sea the hateful moon shone, and over its unvocal waves weird   
   perfumes breeded. And as I saw therein the lotos-faces vanish, I longed for   
   nets that I might capture them and learn from them the secrets which the   
   moon had brought upon the night. But when that moon went over to the west   
   and the still tide ebbed from the sullen shore, I saw in that light old   
   spires that the waves almost uncovered, and white columns gay with festoons   
   of green seaweed. And knowing that to this sunken place all the dead had   
   come, I trembled and did not wish again to speak with the lotos-faces.   
      
   Yet when I saw afar out in the sea a black condor descend from the sky to   
   seek rest on a vast reef, I would fain have questioned him, and asked him of   
   those whom I had known when they were alive. This I would have asked him had   
   he not been so far away, but he was very far, and could not be seen at all   
   when he drew nigh that gigantic reef.   
      
   So I watched the tide go out under that sinking moon, and saw gleaming the   
   spires, the towers, and the roofs of that dead, dripping city. And as I   
   watched, my nostrils tried to close against the perfume-conquering stench of   
   the world's dead; for truly, in this unplaced and forgotten spot had all the   
   flesh of the churchyards gathered for puffy sea-worms to gnaw and glut upon.   
      
   Over these horrors the evil moon now hung very low, but the puffy worms of   
   the sea need no moon to feed by. And as I watched the ripples that told of   
   the writhing of worms beneath, I felt a new chill from afar out whither the   
   condor had flown, as if my flesh had caught a horror before my eyes had seen   
   it.   
      
   Nor had my flesh trembled without cause, for when I raised my eyes I saw   
   that the waters had ebbed very low, showing much of the vast reef whose rim   
   I had seen before. And when I saw that the reef was but the black basalt   
   crown of a shocking eikon whose monstrous forehead now shown in the dim   
   moonlight and whose vile hooves must paw the hellish ooze miles below, I   
   shrieked and shrieked lest the hidden face rise above the waters, and lest   
   the hidden eyes look at me after the slinking away of that leering and   
   treacherous yellow moon.   
      
   And to escape this relentless thing I plunged gladly and unhesitantly into   
   the stinking shallows where amidst weedy walls and sunken streets fat   
   sea-worms feast upon the world's dead.   
      
   Isn't that all better now Rexsy?   
      
   Mitch   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)