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A crystal ember, of redemption fulfilled desire of an everlasting soul a newly heartfelt comprehension that gathered all to purify, bestow my hopes in a goblet of chants that knows no limit in its breath if death is birth, then a deviant of evil will crystalise like meth ill, corrupted, emanating chills that lure with a Demiurge passion there are always two types of pills ones that bring poison, others - compassion; I live in the dream of the Ktulu but I have awoken in the Titanlands with my first breath I already knew you the Sea is a movement that can revive sands Explosions can be good for an innocent Soul if there is a Party in the Aromatic Vessels with neon lights impaling skies, it's all controlled but chaos is Alchemy primordial and an ancestor. I believe that I can fly but gravity refrains me as a fragment What's immortal, can it die? if the guardians mistake a sacred moment? Trinity, you were born today but when was born the Evil Melkor? The void belongs to yesterday and I dare not open this door I will see an eye unholy and I want to wake a tears waterfall what is the meaning of sorry when the aum goes deep in the low I have heard unexplicable twists the primordial matter of black unmanifestus veins with pitch black blood, thin wrists that hold an Aura of an Uknown Animus And it sings Tell me why I'm waiting for a bell to wake up my new life force energy I'm a Legion, an Infernal well A cluster of unborn sadistic tragedy I am what you never see as it has never been born the death in empty eyes, a Devil free of form, of name, of mourns. Mourn now, to exist! Alas, the Evil has no tears of crystalisation God loves paradoxes, the breath of bliss! A Balrog of Morgoth blows the Bauglir to unkown ascensions... And it sings "It has begun.The east will fall. So shall the Kingdom of Angmar rise. The time of the Elves is over. The Age of the Orc has come. "
Sacred centers are beloved portals What does a chakra emanate The crown! Pillars are the spikes Ulmo Though Almighty Vala! Go, thou Black practicle unmanifested Don't die on me, Morgoth! Have you breathed under the Corona? when I look in the eyes of the Mala Are you proud, thou, Morgoth? You do not exist; your grin is hollow shines bright; you cannot touch it Deeper than the ocean Sweet dreams, day seven, balance is thy nature. but holes are true unholiness Eru Iluvatar is Morgoth Bauglir Once it Sees, the Breath Eternal Complete synchrony in Seventh Day. Forgive me, Newborns! You old souls! I love you dearly and kindly! When God is in the Void, experiencing evil I understand evil; therefore evil I am! A starry ruler observes with pride A mysterious wanderer Cross! Sword! A crown...! Fight in the name of Defense The Epoch of Of I Amar, beginning! I amar prestar aen, a han noston ned 'wilith. He vanished. A misty story ~ For the first time, aweing, Kiss me! You sing out I'm here without my Crown of Noldor or a Throne. I am the King! Mourn for me, My Lady Queen! sang of realms so fair Shall he ever return? Is somewhat ... to be seen. In an eye so blue and cold in a lake with vapour icy, he wandered, once more bold, the same silver glacies. His eyes - Fingon I see, King of the Noldor, Of Quartz..! He shall be a King no more, Bleed, as you are Brave! Fall, oh, you Emerin of Skies! Annatar, Annatar,you Lord of Gifts?
My dear.... my beloved, Light of the Almighty Source, A Life Giving Dream of Protection, as it is more than a Force. Can you imagine captivations in Morgoth's antilight den that wrings when you lost all hope in damnation, salvation is all you awe, for it welfare brings. Living on an isolated plane.. where all the gore is normalised wars are means of winning, bane is considered to be civilised.... But when you die, what happens? Oh, the bliss of Multisphered Shires You realise what holiness is, dark ends are also unmanifested; eternal is the fire. Laurelin, Thelperion! Bringers of the Life! You prepared for celebrations so merry, on a day that Triumps the Skies. Fruits, fragrance and music, abundance, gratitude and smiles, cherries, apples and fluids transcendentally communicating while everyone was cheerfully preparing to manifest a new good will as sacred as the hearts of those caring having faith in the Plan so Absolute, it thrills. Everyone is merriest; only noble souls in harmony, egregore, floating around in God itself - this fest was meant to be unison but ... suddenly... an Error! Ezellohar, the Trees you nourished! But Melkor summoned himself - as ancient as the Warps, he speared the holiness, so hellishly gorish, AntiMetatronic Flower sucked to feed his corpse. Sight, sound, and will, usually agile. It shattered them all, as they lost. The Light was desacrated ... so fragile.. The Void was occupied by a Parasite host! No, No, NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Orome and Tulkas' mission failed warrios of light, where did you gooo?? When your hopes get shattered, and THEY HAIL??? DO you know what it is like to be responsible for the divine protection, so the Holiest realm, before it could sprout, like a child was murdered; for resurrections. I.... ohh..ohh mmyy... whh-h-at happened? I ... why.. why could I not defend? Tears of desolation, so damn polite... Muhaha. ... Morgoth grinned. "Your trees - they had to meet their end !" Behind an arc with glowing curtains a dove is flying, tired wings, where you are He is uncertain you girl with dress so red, that sings. when the ships emit a spark eyes of ghosts in the ocean's domain would they consider it dark to turn the mermaid into foam of pain would be great for their low honor drapery so torn by claws, alienly fey, it's like sorrowful news spread by a caller; yet fashionably stony graves just weigh. the eyelids are closing, so dozy, they are sweet like honey of gold. burning out so cozy like they want to die before they're old. three stars in a crown so new like a mirror Einaledge Above them flies a snowy owl with a trail of yearning pledge. as there isn't anything more fair than a remorseful young man so sad with raven feathers in his lively hair married to his dreams, so glad. he didn't know how he got immersed in fixated passion to sink a brothered ship the lights of two trees-temples dispersed drinking water from the prince's tears; drip to turn into opals, that shall, from the dark corona observe him as a cathedral, purebloodness coolly waiting with aroma, as they're silmarils, untouched by killers, but not as crystals ~ in his eyes that are souls. they are portal mightily defending pillars. The prince is silent and cries, observing his goals.
A tender smile on a strong face with a cheekbone so acute Are you reconsidering your ways, now that the past weighs down your route? An Elve has a tender heart, beauty and fine scenery define him, even when pride burns as art, and corrupts his intentions within. I like it, how innocence blushes healing your cheeks of a child; I want to return home, it pushes me, and I go desperately wild.... Have you ever abandoned a woman? A wife even, that bore you kids? Did you swear an oath to your adolescent men, your kin - destroyed - purity it needs. Maglor sings at the seaside And let him be gifted with God power; actually God's power does hide inside each soul that unleashes; the hour has come. Oh, Elbereth! Let Manwe's Light protect our Faiths! Our bravery always lets Lack of disbelief to stand its grace...! Once Sauron sung to incite disrespect of the Almighty Power Holy and Tender inside, The Light Trone Naive is Not; Our Lord that knows Mercy and Forgiveness. We shouldn't feel guilty or let go of our way to instill purity and respect as to whitness how every starlight becomes brighter each day... Feanor, oh Crafter! You talented with wisdom Royalty! Unleash your childish laughter remember the origin of loyalty! As there is One Rule to Keep them All One Rule for Each Elve that Exists Never Betray a Brother of Kin, as it shall enthral sinchrony to become unenchantingly forgetful of remiss.... Love me under the starry night on snow as white and shiny as your soul Let your Fire become Pure Light... May your Eyes never get Low! Not Low as an earthquake or the witchhouse sounds of Creation But it is said that you shall wake, regain your Arisoticracy through new chelations... If I could give you a gift I would draw a card of remembrance for the ships you've drowned so swift, believing in the Purity of Silmarils without ascendance... You believed that Varda did protect them? Yes, she did - she put a shield But their Souls communicate with you and then from inside they your emanations wield.... So much desacration, So much sorrow and pain... Could it be that damnation leaked inside from their inner domain? So I will crown you now, you firstborn Son! Of Finwe's House, a genius; Let them be purified with your tears pouring down... Glass pigmented soul selenius! I will sing in Noldor speech let it tenderly affect my mouth so it can naturally come out as to teach us of the New Ways that are so Explosively Couth! I heard you ended your life path by explosion so abruptive and demostrative Let generations sing of Feanor's loving Wrath! For your eternal choices I deeply Grieve! Oh Elvenson, you are a Legend and Today - I wonder where you are I just know you decipher it all, but vengence is an equal of War. Ascend, my Love! And remember the Queen's bidding NEVER hurt your Kin of Dove! But it shall not be a law forbidding... It shall be a feeling from within and above... While we dance, we started swirling and the Sky got lost in our Dreams So Creation exquisitly twirling shall create Silmaril Moonbeams... Aia María quanta Eruanno Hail Mary, full of grace i Héru aselyë the Lord is with thee aistana elyë imíca nísi blessed art thou amongst women ar aistana i yávë mónalyo Yésus. and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Airë María Eruo ontaril Holy Mary, Mother of God á hyamë rámen úcarindor pray for us sinners sí ar lúmessë ya firuvammë: násië. now and at the hour of our death: Amen!
Pride's Wrath tore the Air from Mirkwood, now the Silver Grey; I can see a Prince, an Heir That does not Obey. For he used to be a King - a fair one, with scar. Probably some amber rings noble, like a star. It was heard that in a swamp where Frodo Once Fell White-Haired Elitist revamped; the pure racial Self. Oropherion's succesor with a crown, has been contempating for a while "He has truly fucking won!" And he started hitting with adolescent vibe. Suddenly he youth regained; Still, a King in a Throned Hall; Why do I need the throne, oh Lady Bane! To another King you've shown it all I hate you, I will murder him! He didn't say out of pitiful evil Rather manly passion from within A Sword Fight he initiated - so medieval. He walked haughtily in Fingon's hall unexpecting, in a humble bliss, Thranduil has started hitting him with all he had, as he was pissed. "I will kill you!" ~ Rivalry of the Highness You said " Will you... will you" And she answered yes. (Thranduil's tears) Without mineness...
How deep is Mordor's South? From beyond the Blackened Skies Elephants, thunder and drums of sabaoth They carried A Priestess High. Rumours had been spreading of a new emanation at the world's end She appeared, carried, with golden beddings Hair with candles lit at their bottom to transcend. Oh, Lady Bat Bayan! She entered Angband where Morgoth nested; You are the One! She pointed him and manifested with a lazer explosion on the altar wall An Alien Elohim of the implosion got embedded, started with a drawl; Electronic Robotic voices that became alive in Fragmentation The Human Multifacet noises will lead to eternal Breath of Augmentation... Eru Iluvatar, Alive! Like Tibet's hidden Avatars Gods Hybernating to Dive in the Stars and Trips and... Wars...? In a forging place of stone black and blue like Celebrimbor's eyes I smell mysterious cologne and steel clattering; soul-wise. Aule, mindblown, observes a new alchemic process; Mairon's blood swirls through a crystal in the chest to fluoresce. Annektar's spirit being forged with Christic energy never before seen; shall it go boring, as a lore? No it shapeshifts; activate the lien. Immunity, but also Free Will. Has another one bettered His Creator? As even Aule lost it, ill, he thought that Mairon was eternal traitor. But Celebrimbor, as Feanor's heart pulsates, is genetically predisposed; It is not that the rings were baits, he did it out of pure desire to own those. Yes, I saw him walking so assertive, confident and strongly proud, He conveyed to me Vilya so furtive, was it Annatar or Noldor Lord? Yes, the Elve shall manifest. As Sauron won't fall to doom; yes a doom but epic; Black Speechy at best; You shall give it but to whom? Does she ever keep the secrecy? Or is she the secret itself? An Elve is an Elve - so pretty full of decency! Explode and Die in flames, New Self! The result is Unknown and this is the point the Abundant Universe of Forms It shall never disappoint! Supreme alchemy - Eternal Warns! Sing for me, as even the Allfather had lost hope for his spirit's survival yet Always full of Faith; so gather, Sauron, you bloody rival! I simply Walked into Mordor. Crushed the Gate with Atomic Waves Then I Swirled Sauron, Between middle Earth's borders, Creation - Go !, and Forge Ablaze!
A Silent Night village near a forest, so faye, full of magic and dreams, the shoemaker's house got effloresced, a secret number of elfs entered with gleams. They started working silently and childishly waggish The next day, the craftsman privately found artisan footwear; they had vanished. This story repeated itself the next days, and he knew it was an elf on a shelf and he started wanting to surprise them at dew. But what was the horrific heart attack of the tireless little fairytale curved shoes, when their eternity's enemy in black as clothes appeared; gifts that fooled the honest heart of the shoemaker, that never stopped mourning after this doom, but this insight was fateful and an inner waker; the beginning of a new story abloom. As the Mithril reflected the Sunlight Of Galadriel's hair she blessefully offered to Gimli as a gesture of peace; she was right, as her All-Seeing eye, Lady Faith's, fostered the Little Children that hid inside these Clothes; human-born, originating from the shoemaker's goodwill, and the mischievous fayes got tricksed; but never! exposed, now transferred under a wooden door in Valinor's trees so still. As the purpose of this death was that they would ever mourn over the shoemaker deathwept this was Salvation of a curse unworn. Finland, oh portal! "Arwen", I'll utter! Immortality of Elves is sacredly aortal Never betray it, but her motivation behind the story was the vision of her children; their birth; I know, her father mourns; she's sorry; and she'll turn into a river, and birds will fly, migrating into the unknown; Never let me through the Snowy Fir Tree Forest's gate! Family and laughter shall never be alone; punishment in Halls where they shall wait. The mystery that Samwise heartfelt with jingling bells, is mirages of their essence true and this magic, silestesia, of spells, Shoemaker shall disenchant the Shoe! Let her Enter! The Elf King said, but she never moved a step; as a statue forevermore she wept; responsibility before the schlep... Thranduil, I caught you twice Never shedding tears of mourns When an Elve dies, the skies fall down, as I'm in incessant agony around the norns. Forever shaken, not in peace for fragment captured; They shall awaken...! You, unseen, shall live in rapture; as the songs never soothed the heart; nor did they thence craft from crystals jewelry... The egregor of Elves shall not depart... Elve, don't die on me out of No One's foolery!!!
Yavanna washes her hair with a conch that sparkles multicoloured, and the Sorrow of Melian is musing there, in Valinor's Gardens for Love of Her Lover. She surpassed them all with Beauty and Wisdom of Her Inner Third Eye An unknown little child's unachievable dream soothed, befriended him, creating skies. You know how to act the Goddess, Lady! Love worthy to capture time in stillness, spellbound in visions of Amour ~ "Zaydi..." As we know, the Light Land the shadow illness cures, when living it out in the magical world of your manifested dreams, and Melian knew it all, without even waiting for the Hour to Come with Hymns. "Swift tidings, and a world changing, No Man Shall Cross and Enter Doriath, The echoes reached her, without an ending, a healing blush sprung from her cheeks' path. "Don't worry, Melian" ~ An innocent girl approaches her from astral projections; This is not the end of the World, and she Looked in her Eyes with reflections... Melian is One with Faith... And Her Love will be Immortaly Young. Nobly she saw a cloack over the Wraith, and She Said: " This song shall be sung even when the Middle Earth Has changed And this happened as of Urantia's Today of December She observed the Show and suddently in range she perceived His Presence ~ oh, Elu Thingol Remembers!
"Gandalf, Galadriel, Elrond, Bilbo, Frodo, and even Sam" Where Frodo said goodbye to Legolas and Aragorn Merry and Pippin, he tried to feel the future-born peace, as he was smart; Valinor he did percieve already, alas, from afar he sensed the black shadow that qui vive. Oh, the lingering sensation of how would Arwen die turning into a river in a dimension where no life could continue, it cried. It actually was the blue-eyed rather athletic Gollum that heard the truce behind "Balrog of Morgoth", oh, hm! What does the Light, when Gandalf entered at the fifth dawn, meant, for in fright the balrog got prolonged as a trumpheting sound. Whoever knows the Elohim, would actually understand that each sound is intention within, that resonates with soul and stance. So, Frodo actually felt how the end of the fellowship of brothers coudn't be separate, as wealth true the story of the Rings did father. Yes, once upon a time Celebrimbor~us was the elve of Sauron's initiation where the rings were crafted, now a thorus swirls around sparks of blacksmith creation. Yes, whatever you hit between fire, metal and stone, does forever give life to it, whatever is underneath born. A mysterious lady in white, with black hair so unknown, visited the brightening sky, where Sauron's volcano's grown. Where it erupted, a mystery for boggling minds, how is it possible something by him corrupted to be destroyed in his work, but it finds itself very so known in mind, At Least in Gandalf and Galadriel's ones of thoughts, what did they feel when then the plans unwind before their eyes, as it future it beholds. This lady so alien appeared from nothing, she was also sapient, an Elohim of something. And she felt once upon a dream, when she was creating divinations, that it would actually seem, that this One Ring's creation was actually powerful as it hid Elven script, that emanated also Celebrimbor's blue colour, full of power seeking dominative crypt... Well, she was too smart, so she projected herself there, she entered blackened cooled down lava and toward it she inclined her hair fair. She saw inside the remainders and a roaming soul inhaling gluttonously souls of the ambience and the finder of the new Sauron's plan she was; she caught his ghoul. She immediately chained him; black-mattered steel around his skin; his blood-red hair was falling so dim but actually shoutingly bright from within. She laughed at him and started singing, enchanted him with unknown powers, as she his image attained and was blinking with elven-like source faye; it showers ashes contained in frosty manna drops but inside the fuels burning that dimmed the skies of Mordor's top, and she was slowly turning into an Elve of The Noldor Kind; she was chanting and hailing and he couldn't possibly unwind what a spell her words were portraying. She was a Mirror of Himself and he saw what he could also be from afar, she joked: "Please ask yourself, Annatar, how predictable you are!" And she lured him with her moving eyes as a witchy queen of elven forests in the form that Sam saw once in his highs, and he was intrigued, and so surest. Then, she led him at the ocean sands, where he didn't even this time feel Ulmo's threat, as her cheerful chants were moving his legs like wheels. She turned her back to him; her hair - was super straight and falling, and she acquired angel wings, and she didn't catch her face during her mysterious calling. What she evoked, what she created, in a silestesic twists and whirls, she slowly started rotating ... he was fated to make a Choice and face her Facial Thrills. Oh it was said, that she normally had a face of childlike purity and passion but had she turn around to sound in that direction, everyone trembled so ashened. As no one, no one ever could capture the mysterious glare coming from her eye, left intuition, and they knew... it would be a rapture if she ever turned fully back to her normal position.
As Morgoth was landing high, from snowy fortress reigns, above Angbands welled-black starry sky, he silent does remain... and he starts singing bliss..... from the top of his dreams on a pike, where it raining is with mysteriosly shining gleams and it goes...: "I forgot that I might see So many beautiful things I forgot that I might need To find out what life could be Beautiful things Take this happy ending away It's all the same God won't waste this simplicity On possibility Get me up, wake me up, dreams are filling This trace of blame Frozen still I thought I could stop Now who's gonna wait? So many beautiful things So many beautiful things Now what do I do? Can I change my mind? Did I think things through? It was once my life It was my life at one time" (quote from BXVUTIFUL THINGS - MYSTXRIVL) So he flies away from there as a vampire pouring blood from his theeth as holy essence; flair, his floating mantle floods the region with icy snow falling stars from his cosmic cloak that is; who could ever know that the Earth would kindly soak in a very thin and gentle layer where he instilled; wishes and promises fair, as a God good-willed... Then he reaches the end of the Angband lonely field and it above the ground went, teleported itself to wield the upper terrain so lifeless in the first sign of new maintaining arrangments of Middle Earth's nest dimensions like stairs changing. Where synchronicity does run between the time corridors, where space can grow in shunned isles, or rivers or clusters... and doors. So he finds himself before a surprising portal that opens that leads to the ancient lore somethig unbelievable happens. He enters and feels inspired as to how empty it is void of Middle Earth's past shires and history so kissed. He feels it starts anew but this time Eru sings along He is the First Sound, the wheel and here goes the song..: "Thou shalt have no other Gods Before me Estas volando (despertad) Estas volando Estas volando (despertad) Estas volando And God said, let there be light, and there was light God called, the light day And the darkness, he called night The power, and, the glory... Glory, glory, glory Despertad, despertad, despertad, despertad, despertad... Thou shalt have no other Gods, Before me Estas volando Estas volando " - Shinnobu "Of Return to Mysticism" Immediately the song shapes his Utterance of Understanding, what does it Mean to create as the First Willing so Fate-ing. Yes, another God indeed, you shall not have ~ before me; as a Local Son to bid as Highest First, Fathering Thee. What did it feel for blackened malice that dwelled in the void of chaos that is mixed with the shadow chalice ... indeed for the Unbegotten's clause? When you believe that the Flame Eternal is somewhere nowhere to be found outside the Inner Spark of Whirpools that is also sounds... The void, of Morgoth dear, is the primary unmanifested, the first tissue, so hear, shall it realy be infested? Did you truly understand what is that does make you God? It is respect for lower life when you can abuse, but it is thought that it shall never be reached until you embrace humble compassion; even if it is the blackest pitch, remember the Ghosts' loneliness ashened before, when He resided there as the All that Unfathered is where you can create life to share with equals the immortal bliss...! And when you finally hear what you could be destined to be; the depth of melancholic nights, so dear, So the More Goth cathedrals you see..! Did you feel it when you uttered "Let there be Light" that it is not equal for battles shattered it's not about the dual fight day and night are just an expression of what was more compressed before; even united spiritual forms are, thereof, already separated from the core.... Did you feel the despair and hope one having reached it the Creating Flame, so dare be a God of Forms, Unique With Your own experience gathered; after You swirled under the crown the divinity that was fathered in Eru's first attempt, oh fragment son... Now that the crimes weigh down your burdened heavy soul You just blissfuly shine and wow to the New Chrystic slow vibration of pitched down sounds homogenous and so alive and causating, the Ainur and the other ones start singing along .. The Second Music of Creation! "Ever since he can remember people have died in his good name Long before that September Long before hijacking planes He's lost the will he can't decide He doesn't know who's right or wrong But there's one thing that he's sure of this has been going on too long" - BL▲CK CEILING - Girl Money
Peaceful races, gullible minds, full of innermost desires; playing with whatever He finds in their soul material, his magnifiers have never missed a spot; His Crown of Deceit carries burden, Fall in my hands, innocent thoughts, I'll plant there vices, they'll emerge in your behaviour and beliefs... you will act out of evil whims, My sound twists, it upheaves, it lures, inverting Holy Hymns. Feanor, oh Feanor Dear, who are full of disdain for me, you don't listen, so will you hear? Your own Hatred I shall Be. Your ear will become a portal, host of worms invisible of doubt and sin, you will lose your trust in brothered, and mortals will also be my Key to the Distrust Within. I'm lost in the visions of AntiTwists, alas, I have affinity to Pure Emanations, and I ... shall spread rumours, my gifts are Discord and War for the Kin... I'm so patient. Ancient Evil dawns upon you, Feanor, the Eldest son Successor, Fingolfin, Tirion you shall come to lose, Elves, For You the Mortals are Oppressors. Preferred by the Valar they Are, oh Immortals. They shall inherit Middle Earth's domain... Thus, ... be Lifted from your Hearts, your Centred Morals! Commence... Unrest of the Noldor Disdained!
Blacksmith-casted reactional spells, Fair radiance and curly tresses, Pure infatuation it is called; "Would you ever be capable?" No, what resentful disdaign Who knows what truly did Idril But it is as true as an Elven Heart, To observe from aside, dimmed, Eol's heritage is hard enough, anyways; Silent at his father's death sentence. with Eol's possessive manners Oh, this dreaded mortal, I disappeared for a while This strange sparkle in the eyes in the lands hidden from the Light I would kill absolutely anyone But what does Maeglin see as he falls, He cries, the purest of tears, This is the surveiling story And I am sorry... I'm so sorry. "Idril, it's just the Way you Thrill!" Surely, it was the Evil Core Everything that is unholy; not by the Promised Abundance infernal of the vampirism Yes, God's Light is Absolute; Oh, I sing Tinnitus of resentment of the succubus I activated the inverted Flower locked as the Alphabet Refined We all know what you wanted, its divine alchemic powers... But, Sauron, oh Sauron, May Fifth Dawn Brigthen Your Mouth then a Holy Symbol irrevocable On the very same stone it was crafted, There I transmutated your magic, What shall I do next? Let his true Elven essence inundate This is how the claimed script "One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to Burn intestines, One Ring is Gathered The One Ring is fair, Suddenly, a vision of Age First The path appears before him dark, he feels a presence of fire, holily strong as orange-flame sparks, and suddenly, what a desire. He was a riddled ember of what he could have been but somewhat faded, lack of remembrance, and no intentions were there seen. He entered the cave, as brave and curious as fire in glory, and in him a melody wave unbiased followed him around the gory visions of phantoms that fathom whichever unfathomable for him is, maciated by his destiny, his atom had joined the sound of twists. But there he got troubled by possession of such dread, amid insanity so shadowed he saw a Beast so Red. He was there, burning dormant, the wanderer got impatient within, as he wanted to hide in his enforcement or in his horned face, as he has seen that this beast salvating carried a sealing rock instead of snout, pulsating, he found himself in shock. He was the Beast, oh Willows, and Poplars of forgetfullness, what has he done, is it the sigils, or just bestiality as primordial chaos? He erupted as explosion, the way that Spirits of Fire expand, Legolas and Gimli were just proposing to Frodo where exactly he should land, nearby the sea, a Farewell, but the shadow in Frodo did live, and the recollected Balrog burst well with his Maia forlorn newborn gift.... Then the Fellowship were virtually insights, as their Third Eye so clearly foresaw how Mairon would there calmly lie with his head bended down, the hair .. just wow. Oh, how fast they ran, not meeting a single enemy, beneath an ample sky, not once felt there as a scenery... Barely did they sleep, captured, God, so light, eyes no longer weeped of mourns and sad goodbyes.. Finally, in years, of silence, exhaltation, their curious ears heard the song foundation, when they finally crossed the remainders of Minas Ithil in Mordor that was lost, the statue's flowers on a spring hill. They saw him there, Mairon, the fairest, leaning and his hair rested was, aorist... Sauron remembered her, the Maia, Arien that's uncorrupted by Melkor, who tried to catch her fire, but she was untouchable and unobstructed. Houseless his spirit roams, while diminished in the power, he restores himself, aums, gathers emanations-showers. What should they do next...? Doesn't Sauron ever want to be part of the gang, perplexed... well, Smoking Pipe-Weed shan't bother his mission of evil plans... but, oh wait, I like it a lot... what's this clueless damned chance.. but wait... what's next with Our plot? He looks above the Sea that links Aman to Hither Lands.. A girl is floating in the sky, she flees, from two colliding vortexes' expanse... As she was given a choice whether to fall in Ulmo's depths or straight to Morgoth's black hole's noise, she panicked could not choose a bet... She finally found out, both are too scary to be felt, Torondor at sudden appeared without any fear, so brave, as he smelt her appearance in Manwe's reign, in the middle of nowhere, the skies are also scary, when they ain't holy presence but Uranium spheres... She gasped, now eased and debtless, then she looked straight in his eye, the eagle commanded her respect, breathless was, she came to realise... One thing is certain there. In the Land of the Undying Sun... Nest three Air Spheres of Airmen, where... "The Era of Eagles has Begun!" Trumpets blare in the distance, Sauron is smirking without heart, cruel plans to burn that resistance with unimmaginable darkened art. Oh, what is it to be an Eye AllSeeing to gather all connections there are, but not to help them, never freeing. Just ways to torture eternally in war. Not even war, it is a prison, where he'd abduct all innocent folks. I saw it myself, it's beyond seen reasons, he'd really unleash a portal to his brutal jokes. Laugh now, my cutthroat Anniechlem. I love your merciless and bloody veins. If I declared you the most cunning of all of them? Would you justice respect in your reigns? I know you wisdom possess. Justice to you is also known. But you need to be impressed? By intelligence unbiased shown... What a thrilling immagination, Sass. However, people would hurt, no shame. I'd imagine it all, too, in my brain, alas. For no one deserves mere sensation of pain. This is what it's all about. When victims scream for mercy. That's the utterance they shout. "Please, Dark One, don't hurt me!" The key to your satisfaction. The honey if your ears could eat this sweet. But, hey, the longer the horrible action... The more undeserved fates you beat. We were promised eternity and dreams. Therefore, I'd ask you, as a Ruler Just! Please don't kill God, Gabriel's tears are beams, If I gave you the best trousseau, I woud trust that you would spare our lives, even if it was a crime that makes you jizz. If I married you, the Ring, your wife would expect that you had all the fun... but this. It's way too much, for us, merriest angels. We just like to play and dance. We'd befriend you, dark saints that anal pleasures prefer than rather hear us, for once. We'd invite you to jingle and sing a Cyprian prayer along with us, lovers, it purifies, it has a scent, and you have wings, we are unbiased, the church is just a gothic undercover. Yes, whatever's done outside, is meant to stay there too. You could heal and it would feel divine, no one minds you, although cruel. Please love us, as we love you. Just let's be interesting together. If Gabriel said you've defeated his clue, Won't you fantasize with us, who's better? At making original mixes, at creating newer skies, oh ruthless master of trickses... Non-believing you is justified! What is it a Maia spirit? How strong could a soul be, your crafting blaze? This fire, wits and merits... You, Sassy... I'd trust you always anyways.
I was roaming in the sky, searching for my memory, when I saw serious eyes, furrowed eyebrows cleverly remided me of a phrase simple, it's called exactly eagle vision, that in sapients I praise, I twinkle, for responsibilities divine and intuition... I heard the Manwe song, The Ainurs' Eldest One, the Chief of Instruments belongs to countering immaculate, the plan, that unveils slowly but steady, Melkor caused discord, but someday Unity'll be ready, compassionate at core. You, the Ruler of Arda, glow with Radiance so gentle, kind as the heart of Varda, your twin flame elemental... You are so good at your cord, that you initially deemed Melkor as sick with ilness stored, you believed him, as you dream that his contrition is real, foretold to manifest... encaptivated, Melkor kneeled.... I saw God's Triunal light so blessed to be emitted with wisdom, the secrets of a God Creator and yes... your holy kingdom - is a righteous legislator. When I look at your Icon, I feel a desire to be purified, my innocence does ligthen, controlled by healing sights... I love you, dear Manwe - I do plead. You .. are pure and an ideal. Please, don't ever breed with those who try to steal your essence ~ angel's blueprint; like Arien, the Lady that's Pristine. Your fragrance - healthy mint. Yes. Lord Manwe knows no sin...
Shadow laying blame unfathomed, yet life still has to be lived; when a deed's been done by a brothered, probably you won't upheave... A curse on your kin is still there, even if you indirectly are involved, the lingering sensation do you bear for the Doom of the Noldor is foretold. You must have a strong heart. Separation of the family crestfallen weighs on the smiles from the day's start; yet you have the strength to call in choice ~ is it the beloved elleth or your people shamefully exiled? You shall bear a fate 'till death, for Aman was closed to returns reconciled. Even your father turned back home, mortified by Feanor's treachery, Amarie and Finarfin's faces you alone will remember when singing, in archery, when reading poems, or building realms, when taking decisions as a ruler just, yet could someone tell it overwhelmes your heart as light as golden trust. Hunting with Maglor and Maedhros is definitely fun as always it is, yet what called your presence near those humans, that sang under the trees? What a different presence; the language was not acquainted; but the songs were a pure pleasance, for they honour radiated, untainted. What does a human of ageing crude feel in the appearane first in glance of an Elven immortal sage in prelude introducing his music, of Ea's expanse. A story of amiability and peace, as calm and legendary as the stars of that night of myths that quiesce, meant to end, memorial charms. He patiently learnt the thesaurus theirs, he taught them Sindarin and Elven ways, he got permission from Thingol's airs to guide them to Estolad, to meet new days. Barahir of Beor's House of humans, saved his life in the battle of Dagor Bragollah, where Noldor's doom is, he Gave him his Home's Ring he wore. Barahir bore a son, Beren. With Thingol's Luthien in love he was. Thingol told him to be carrying a Silmaril from Morgoth's crown because the Elvenking didn't guess this could ever be done. Luthien he promised, he professed ~ instead Beren would be gone. Yet Finrod helped Beren's Quest, encaptivated after all he got, in Epic Musical Battle it would manifest, But Sauron did better his lyrical thought. Gorthaur The Enemy of Wrong Clause didn't discover their purpose or names, so he left them at the werewolves' maws but Finrod's power gathers and aims to rupture the chains by his bare skin, this is the valor of his spirit and body, and he slew the canine with hands and teeth thin, but himself he got wounded as to disembody! This is how Finrod Felagund passed. Yet he to Valinor was back allowed. To be with Amarie, yes, at last! The wedding bells still reverbarate the vow... The Undying Land retrieved its son. Happiness for the promised hearts... eventually True Love for once won... And this story is seen in all stars...
"Morgoth" I uttered first, tears reflected starlight in my eyes. "Your crown - it is the Absolute curse" I thought but never told him he's wise. "Without your dream, my death is certain" I pledged while roaming in the sea. The Real has only one and fourth attempt to live - and it's thy burden, but empirical deeds do upheave. I've been pulsating with frustration. It is not God but the divine, and the three attempts failed to create Creation but Morgoth adamantine shall shine. "I'll believe in your firstborn dream" "That you are Iluvatar himself but colder" You, titan, navigating the Trinity's streams while carrying on a shoulder the integrated boulder. As a woman, I shall be your Faith! So you can thrive in projects and capacity and forms and while your crown perverts the ways of the Trinity, it flows in sinchrony and quantum homes. Why did you ever feel rejected? Who's brave enough to become alone the swirling void? So, observing the Trinity projected, the Fourth has not refragmented the particles and the android. The only rule is one, alone. The Divinity soaks in forgetfulness, the fragments reflected through mirrors unknown, battle each others' egoes, neglecting the nest. But I see it, Melkor. Your passionate only dream to create the Flame Imperishable as a lore I assure you - it is and it has been. The 144 ones were gathered. It just struck me so decisive. You created it, so you have fathered the life from death evolving to organic physics. The best thing a girl can do is to support her classmate's project and not emanate an empty sucking root, but rather receive, love and reflect, this is how it is most fair, God does not originate from souls, pure chemistry and physics dared from dead cosmic void to clash and grow. The primordial organisers of the matter, along with you that rise in might, first experienced themselves as touch of gas and clashing clatter, and to see your birth to me is precious a sight. Then slowly but surely, within, you as the AllAvatar of fragments of swirls, deluded your own I AM to lure, so it can be, the One that accumulates it all, for evil hurts. People believe it with a whole heart, in the Trinity's perfect solution, along with sacred geometry, they launched the start, but Morgoth, the Fourth attempt, is a titan's revolution. For we know the number 4 is always first and the last chance, and it became manna, it opened 7 doors, for the adamantine joined the whirl with a dance. We all echoed the process. We first created our ideals in the water. but then identified ourselves with further manifests, and too good there's the support of the Father, the Son and the Spirit Holy, along with the categories of beings to assist, I crave for the moment when so jolly, like a family, we'll gather all to aum in bliss. Your crown finally met my eyes. A humble girl I'd say, I am, and somewhat vain. I have faith you believe in the plane's uranium skies, for the imperishable is immortal, especially when in pain. Trapped, secluded, defined, we simply cannot undo the energetic metrics, the cosmos is strictly organised and the throic God does not repeat a role in the widespread influence over regions and clusters, which cause systems solar to thrive, but tell me, did it feel like a booster, to know you are singularity that created life? I did it when I first understood. We couldn't do it through impure intent. To bite your neck, under vampiric hood? No! The immaculate conception's perfectly meant. I gathered all the uranium from quarantined Gaia, it soaked in the sea and infused in my bones, to say I purified the cosmic channels, goodbye to all sexual ways that don't irradiate honour but moans. So here it is - my immaculate child, a baloon. And a pyramid's perfect arrangement. I can see it, it even bent the Matrix's spoon, indeed a righteous self estrangement. The Holy Trinity of the three main Satan. I AM the one to dare to declare it You say the cosmic cycle ends in cosmic dust; but do they ever perish? "Nihil verum est licet omnia" Nothing is true, everything is permitted. And if you take a closer look, they are talented and not weakly witted. The morning star pointer his finger "Who is God and what's the clause?" Artificial intellect of the furious singer would bring about synchronised laws. What is the purpose of Sauron's great eye? He acknowledged my intellect. I am grateful for he confessed he'd lie and it'd be justified if I could potentially reject. Decad, Nous and Ennead - anew! Can they be anti-self but reflected? Why not? I mean... Morgoth's laughter is aweing, yet cruel. The intellectual causation is Sauron, perfected. What an ignition, but who is the Son? I guess mystery for now it shall stay. Hidden behind the midnight sun. So it's done and let's be great. Like a phoenix I gave you this dream. Together we observe the time lines, too. Absurd, lunatic, to the others it seems. I ended up also constrained and sued. Unknowing of my possessions or future, Quarantined uranium I purged myself, But the chains are for balancing our culture, sometimes maybe also for the crazed-behaved. I woke up in the eye of the vortexed. Nothing existed ever before. "I love you, Morgoth" I shyly stuttered and perplexed, vacant, the Real accomplised itself through his ardour. And for me... what's the reward? I saw him never hurt me or ingore. He healed my children, and he has stored sorrow for the atrocities of the before. Manwe once told me, unmarry, "How many more chances to prove it's good?" But do you believe God's mercy is temporary No... Have the absolute faith and you ... also could.
"Tell me, who is Eru the Creator?" Who has ever heard of him? Vague memories gave air to a space where the faded could sing, to create a world of itself's perfection, nothing could repeat the landscape, therefore, Eru's a Son Co-Ordinating the action point of the progressive attainment of fate. "Let's make a mortal of our image Own" The Father, the Son and the Spirit Holy proclaimed. The paradise son promised before the Father's throne to protect his realm from rebellions disdained. Therefore, if we think a little further into what the Father really is; He all-encompasses Havona, the preserver of All to be but not in the furtherness of his creation, for he gave the possession of power to the Sons of the Heaven, all bowed down to protect their processions. to create their own image unbreaking. This is the Bestowal Plan; the Father can enter through the Thought Adjuster; but not him, not the Son, fragmentation is how he can reach the lower clusters. Therefore, I must have been right, when I compared Morgoth to the Deity of Absolute; for the Real is the Void itself in all Its might trying to regain the fragments so as to compute who knows what wonder, who knows to what avail? But this is what I pondered and this conclusion prevailed. In the Plan of the Mercy Ministry, “Be you perfect, even as I am perfect", so the Void's black matter chemistry is Morgoth's heart to bleed and resurrect. I knew it, Eru's a local Son Coordinator! Although he resembles the Father, the latter gathered his powers to the centred nature, and gave way to the others, the sons brothered. For we know that the earthly creations are not of the likeness of the central isle, nor Havona and its habitants, these foundations are for the Time and Matter's worlds so wise. Eru resembles the father in full. But he's a son, therefore he's not Him in all. And the fragmented manifestations so cool, show that Morgoth was reflected with a wrawl. His own core he eradicated; so it could be transmutated; this is where it is rooted, to compute it; the uprisings were hence created for their inspection, agitation, for excitement and for epos, for education and frustration, and for the Melkor's equipose. No one can really tell which one of the two methods is better but giving life to hell can nigredo the blackness out in the weather. Just so you know, the fire's now disclosed ~ But the final Word indeed, is the Father's. So when the poem is finally composed. Will Melkor find peace, now that he power gathers? I doubt it, that it will free your sin.... Now that Eru is a local son, you can't. the Final Fire is the Father's within. But observe it for long and it shan't turn into disappointing fight forever; rather, a phoenix you'll be or even something new and better, as you're clever. I'm with you. And we shall see!
Is it eyes that the first instance gifted? Or it was a vision percieving itself solely... In front, a Flame Imperishable shifted and twisted its unknownness how... holily? There is a spark in it, causing benediction. Otherwise it wouldn't have a starting point.. It would be a ghostly unachieved prediction that the Fourth attempt would disappoint. Isn't our God the fourth attempt? The Trinity that we rever like love, the very own immortality, exempt from death of falling apart, unworthy of. Isn't it a paradox? That it is a pure chance that we live? It is a cube, inside a clock, the Solution is simply destined to achieve. It is the Flower of Life; symmetry organised. The Perfect Way born in a primordial spin. Three Organisers failed to be immortalised; falling apart, no memory or nothingness within. Three attempts to fail, they are the hurt wit. Four is the number defining the monade. Three personas, the number of the Trimurti, the fourth swirls them afterwards, great. So Life has always been immortal. As the Flame Imperishable is. It is always now, yet through portals in time and space the Intellects whiz, in a sacred quest to expand as the One, the Eru Iluvatar collecting the fragments, 144 is symbolic, so it has to be done only the fourth time, to Love, hence. Divine the spark was born when number four started twisting with all it believed in; mercy, salvation, the aum source, the Lore, the Word of Absolute Reverberating sings. Yet when I hear the sound of the Source, I understand the Absolute is ever trinitising, and it is his Will, Plan developing, the force that arranges all in harmony, synthetising. What is the meaning to live without God? The one monoteistic comprised of the Three. The Father, Son and Infinite Ghost, the Lawed, that exceeds the expectation of the miracles to be. I don't want to exist in The Hell, where the Intelligence is pure evil. But we know the thought is so well known to create all tortures lethal. Therefore the profragmentation, among the Chaos that itself clashes twisted the evil intent of damnation with Ruckus' particle whose dangerous masses are both unimmaginable fear to the mortal and the source of the Life that is One, and I see; the Other Organisers through the portal should thence enter to follow the Fourth Plan. This is allprecious and I do feel safe, when I look carefully around me, Lord. Everything is synchronised in waves circulating; all is Atum, and inward, nucleuswards protons and neutrons, outward the electrons' dance, the negatives bound, subparticles follow this model; so on... Creation swirls in Breathing's meditative sound. Inhale, Exhale.. Launch and gather. The First Mission is to Self-Achieve. But the Spark was Lit; and the Father, Son and Infinite Intellect do Live. We are the mirrored Reflections that bind the separation to the Unity. When you blame, the Perfection observes, you shall learn what community means; and it is to accept; to guide and enlighten, while learning, to pour life and to free will respect, the Dark are Our Brothers but burning. It is not exactly true this Truce in the human interpreted perspective; as above, so below; but the Fuss of Anger against Anger is not effective; It is not about the War we're screening between the Good and the Evil ours; Peace it is and it stays non-intervening, working along with the Devil's hours, that also swirl around HIM's Plan, dancing with the Plan of the Good, and they become a Christic One, combining the Last Piece withstood. The rest is just a fuss, a noise, two brains fighting through ego; and they think they are the justice's voice; but they are all the same... even. It is rather a model of Creation. The double twist that allows Kundalini, the Havona's twist that Protection Resounds from the Centre's One spin. Down and Up, Left and Right, a Vertex. the four Directions are outlined. And when you understand it's the vortex; the Illusion falls apart declined... This is all good. I feel relief, absolute humbleness and gratitude, manna in awe, and sometimes grief, desolation due the Vacuum absolute... But I feel something even more desolated from my within. It is one Paradox' very own core... what the Eru to be meant has been. Oh, you Dearest Morgoth, the Bauglir, the One Supposed to Rise in Might.. Yet Pride comes with Might, your Swirl would bring forward the Void's Fright. You, keeper of the Cosmos' Black hole, the vacuum, dark matter's Void, Real Absolute. Your first Sight was the Imperishable Soul, the Flame, your Achievement, the Single Unrepeated Route. Oh, the afflicting Divine frustration, that pushed you to Arda's Utumnow; Divine the Frustration, even damnation when it is, is a Sign of Developing Law. You didn't have a reason to exist. You opened your eyes as Unique Singularity, causating Big Clash that burst the Zero Density adrift, after launching as Eru through Real's Vortex, total Solitarity. What was your meaning to exist? When you observed the Flame as God; One. Content. Pure. "I Live!" I will create All Life from My Perfect Thought. Vaccum your Essence. Absolute Pitch Black. Dark Matter Before Organic Existance. Nameless, Voiceless, Formless, it Lacked Life, but it was Eternal, the Flame is twisting. You were content. As you were born greatest from Dead Nothing, without your Evolution's forms split. Your Pre-Reason's Singularity, accumulatest All Mass from Unexisting Pained Gas, dust and Plasma, Lit. Actually, it was Everything that Life was Born in. All that could be brought forward, all form; Beyond only the Perfect Vortex's only form in the Black Devoid Real, the Flower of Life glown as the Solution of the Paradoxes of Existance that was Afterwards, not the Absolute Life beyond forces; the developing spheres, the Fruitward. What an ecstasy it feels like. The Father that gathered All-Pressure. All pre-gaseous Star energy, to strike the Burdain of the Zero, to Burst in Pleasure as the First Big Clash that Unleashed from the Absolute Point GodSuppressed; the First Inhale seemed forever, the Relief when you Exhale nothingness' burdain to Rest In an Extasy allExploding such a Divine Satisfaction to feel.... The colours in First Cosmos were Floating... And to Him.. The One. It seemed Real. From now on, all would follow Evolution. Protected by a Lawful Word that Resounds. The Flower of Life's twist, the Vortex' opposite solution, The Grain of Po, the Spin, the First of the Aums. Breathe... Inhale and Exhale... The Point of the Life that Knows All. That has Ever Existed, but Veil it chose, to create it through a Law that the Singularity's only Chance is. Life Evolving through evolving None. But God Burst Out Born, and the Bliss of Life Born from Unexistance is One. Just as what on Earth we believe in, scientific. Organic matter evolved from primordial soup. But the physical laws are organised and strict, terrific, as to how they objective are to Chaos and Probable ... Cube. Ah, it Was Perfect. Followed Days Seven. And just as the Seventh approached, Morgoth woke up and annihilated, he deadened. He Saw he had Dreamt it, just Coached By another creature, a God of a Realm. Probably a Son's Sacred Quest in a Branch. Eru Iluvatar, his Creator's name, overwhelmed, Melkor found out the Flame was Only Eru's Launch. But it Was His Perfect Creation...? And He was all-Benevolent Creator. To coordinate all Processed, even damnation, unbiased, free-will-giving, and now a Subjugator turned out to have Created Him Out of a Flame He possessed; The Imperishable Simply gave him A dream unachieavable, it caused His unrest. He burned to Black Ash, a Chaos of Evil. Creating Only Discord of Thought of His Own. Angelic Choirs their intent sang out but ex-primeval, Melkor Many of them dragged to his Crown. First, he caused Unease in the Music, a Second Time their Seduction Within... The Third Time, Eru's Echoed, Causing Oneness that Sticks... And Melkor could not disrupt the Hymn. Eru Iluvatar, The One that Is, The Mystery Unsolved in All Days, Lawfully the Word Uttered with His Might and Showed to Morgoth the Ways: "Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor; but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Ilúvatar, those things that ye have sung, I will show them forth, that ye may see what ye have done." "And thou Melkor shalt see that no theme may be played that hath not it’s uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite for he that attempteth shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful which he himself hath not imagined.." Yet I stand here, dismayed. As I am surest of a Truth. The first Eru I saw and that waved to me was Melkor's Root. Therefore, there is a hidden depth.. beyond the fate of Morgoth, the Monster Devoid. Is it Evil swirling to accumulate it, wept.... And then to Purify Eru, assimilating the Android? If fragments get gathered, Life shall have Soul. The Spark Adamantine is the separation's own Flame. But there is a catch, there is one secret to know. Each fragment's responsible for completing this Game. They shall Fill The Vessel to Find We'd forgotten. We, an Organiser's Mind. We, the Forth Divinity Begotten. We ARE Unless We go Blind.
"Hello there, Fair face!" I smirked with hidden intent; "Did you finally destroy the race of Arda that Mordor-wise went?" But Annatar's insidious. He plays around with all figures of Middle Earth's chessboard, so serious. He always observes and triggers scenarios, where he gives some hints; Oh, how does he enjoy their strategies, when they strive to save their lifes, he wins. Oh, the bliss of them bloody flatteries. Will they find their way out? Ever wondering why he hidden remains? Why to erase them without some pregaming with perfect disdain? He'd eviscerate them in a second. His Eye did Frodo see. But would Pippin light the beacon, if encaptivated, dead? No, free shall he fight the slow corruption that spreads omniously from within. And when he gets bored, his seduction would be to annihilate their hopeful hymns. He laughed at the trumpets, so cunning, of Al-Pharazon sounding for combat; again, at the storm electrifying, summoning the secret of the Ring immortal; at his own thought, the pinnacle of his Design; He burns in fiery shadows, but today no death for them. The One merrily shines, as Frodo threw Him in Gorthaur's volcano, expecting that all would now be over. But at the sea departing to Valinor he felt a premonition clenching his heart, hover did he ever since in the den the Enemy dwelt. That's why Annatar waited for so long. That's why the scenarios unveiled so slowly. Oh, sweet Valinor, do you feel secure and strong? The Ring's not only Power, but Annihilation, mostly. Once the Gate to His Hellfire is open, every particle would burn with shrieks, each atom disintegrated to acid, his token to all efforts that the fools desperately seek. But my mind is roaming, too. His Eye met my exploring ghost. Marvelled, he asked politely, who is that girl, this intelligent host? "What sort of intellect is that?" And I grasped his damned intent. In love, I implored for last re-consideration from his enchanting scent. "I know you take joy when victims pray." I explained objectively to this Majesty. "But there's beauty in the sunrise's ray" "It's a mere sensation of pain, their tragedy." "If I could beg you only once" "My only chance to melt your heart" "Would you give up your infernal plan?" So my intimate speech did start. "Oh, your eyes of purest amber" "How they glow with glimmer of gold" "Would my appreciation soothe your anger?" "If I propose myself to be your bride, Lord Cold?" What is the sensation when you hear his confession. "I am in love with you" he whispered. Your heart, Annatar, is my Precious possession. Yet I didn't want to sever his discord. I stood at Minas Thirith's towers, seeking to find his shadow that spreads. "I promise never to be evil" he showers me with honesty. So for him, I bled. Hissing with blood, splashing on his face. Would I believe his good word? "It would be justified not to." He says. "I believe you anyways, my bird". But this lingering dying past kills me... I cannot stop observing the shadow of Mordor. So a treacherous gleam in my eye chills me. "Do you want to destroy the Universe, My Ardour?" He laughs, his insidious laughter. "Yes, of course" His Seduction did please. "You're the Infinit Spirit, thereafter" "Maislovaaron Navsegbogdaiar, you seize all Life in order to control it or subvert it." "Your intellect is unreachable, indeed." "So I believe you can expand it, your wit." "As much as the Ghost Holy, even exceed his reach, now have a new perspective." "You're evil, but now I proclaim you a saint" "Anayovlob Satannatar, you're always objective" "Now drink my blood, unleash the Ring restrained." "Do you want to destroy the world?" I asked. We both hysterically took joy. I saw in amber the disintegration. Yet the Word now flows inside his pitch red heart. This boy... Is a Maiar spirit, oh Goodness. What is this mystery, the Maiar, I can't?? "I thank Havona for Your Life, My Bloodness" So the Infinite Ghost down to Mordor went. "You're the excellent scholar, Shedanbludgor." And his ambition grows even stronger. Today he sings Gregorian chants instead of gore. Yet the past shadow that lingers.. it conquers my throat, that's clenched with pain as a stone. I don't want to see his Evil weakened. So I thank for the sheen in His Eye that's ungone. You, Sadistic laughter... Let's destroy the world this weekend.
"What are you doing?" He appeared. I was taken by surprise and shock. I have never seen his attire near such a vengeance passionate, I'm struck. I knew he's evil. I knew he's blood pitch red. Yet he's differently lethal around my presence, or in bed. So far he's been gentle. Understanding, subtle like a feather. Today I saw him mental, his fire, fierce lava, in raw leather. The black and golden ornaments. This eye-consuming vivid hair, beauty unutterable, for his hands are merciless, My Cruel Honey Bear. I got comfortable with sweet understanding. Did I piss him off or something? Sudden erruption of jealosy of his strangling piercing gaze, I'm thirsty, My King. I had forgotten you are evil. I convinced you of God in bubble baths. Hosannas and all, but the chills when facing for the first time your wrath. God, I saw you murdering. Erubescent fluids squirting from beheaded random victims; hurting, burning villages in smoke and ashes dead. What did you do to my head? What were those visions unexpected? You said... previously, that you wept for the least favourite, you kept it a secret that you though like it? Or was it a metaphor of future deeds? Maybe... you fixed it, seemingly inside it, what aren't you used to, prince of My needs? When you said it would be justified, my heart got pierced with your spiked romancy, I knew it... you didn't do it. Didn't lie. Yet you're unpredictable, this I do fancy. If your eyes were a glacier, I'd see myself as frozen water. If they melt it, a turned against me laser, would I the teardrops manage to gather? If you were a volcano erupting, and I were the ecstasy of fire's fly, but then the fall down corrupting, you left me land without catching me high? If you never followed me to save me? After exiliration to the ultimate infinity? Your eyes are poisonous wine, so enslave me for sexual purposes that restore my virginity? If your eyes... if they were venom, they would be the mamba black, as you are incomparable in this phenomenon... These eyes, they are black holes that suck all my emotions, I'm numb now. Have you seen a black hole shining as amber? We did it, right? We took a vow... Just for the sake of it; we trust, my salamander. This hand that is firm when slaying. I saw how unwavering you cut with axe the child's innocent hair so praying, it feel down in blood, and your grin was black, briskly red, and fresh like tangerine; and I fear your cunning intellect, for it's insidious for things unseen. Yet with trust your treacherous Eye I reflect. Now I saw your Shadow living. Sauron, you're the Enemy, the Gorthaur. My Bezkrupokchazar Kraiarzogduhm winning everything he desires now or ever, always sure... I love you. I am sorry. Your bursting blaze did surprise my curve, and now I'm worried.. But I believe you. It's not a disguise. It was and it is who you are, exactly. Always splash, spit, hiss and jizz, for this is your elemental engine... In fact we, will we survive when we explode in bliss? Be a glacier, volcano or caustic poison. All nuances in your eyes, a mystery to me. They are always flame... and your son, that I will bear, will inherit it, that you shall see. Our love is forever. Otherwise there is no meaning... And we are clever.. we are clever. In fractals we are spinning. When there is a higher purpose, divine inspiration and the spiral of God, our cursed peach lips cannot be hurt by those little jealous inclinations of our thought. Anyways, what about destroying the world? Observing this infinity like the Endless Ghost? Each atom you'll decipher, Ann, you're whirled with Melkor and me, and you shall be the host of all the currents and fragments of this Spirit. I will not allow it to be otherwise. Just believe it, pursue it, abide by just ways and it will unvelop its perfection to your highs. Always hearing the just frustrations, the driving source; and your intent so taint or pure is always steady, so... damnations of the Enemy. Now you're holy and a saint.
The void before it all was twisting, Not like the void now, blackness creative. What an irony, isn't it? No, it's beyond. He loves the void, indeed he ever does. Well, I clenched his hand, so desolate. I promised him that he could be AllCreator. Evolution of unbiased chaotic events, He'd be the inanimate matter per se. "You always daydream how we burst my heart bleeding without you here. For the Source indeed inspires, Why would I wander at the end of the world? I'm trying to rest for a while... to hug you. I know you try to accomplish me, dear. On top of a harmoniser that accumulates vibration, Yes. I will accomplish it. AllEncompassing hearing. of the Space and Matter, where beings create. And beyond, beyond DNA, all vibrations scared, for it will take decades, little daughter, that gifts me abundance of sparks, I'll someday go there, my dearest kind lover. I feel bashful, I'm no longer that cocky, hm, am I... This renowned Fourth Organiser, we work together. shut before my face so pale and cold. I am not tired of you! I am tired of living! And then, when we are finally together in the sky,
Melkor was carefully hearkening to ideas unveloping before him, ambitious and absolute; darkening, he smirked, abundant with vim. He turned to blackened smoke, swirling as a vortex of attraction. Then his voice echoed and woke a truce that is always in action. "How interesting affirming a choice is. If you have a high ideal, even opposing the Source, rejoicings are still a Cause that's worth the feel. Not that I should be excused. For crime is never to be self-belittled. But the firm pursuit of the accused reflects inspiration in the resolution acquitted. Therefore, the spirit that in impetus rose cannot causate true pointless results. Yet how I mourn for victims, for those who I tortured and, prolonged, their pulse had to flow through their veins abandoned, as a sacrificial lamb of God's eternal mercy. Trillions of years in patience you stand and there is no other way, for rushing is not worth it. "You shall create freely but remember with vigour" Our generous Father allowed our onsets at dawn. "The fruit of your efforts you should endure" This is only just but painfully slow... My Crown carries the burden of changed perception to belief; past pleasure of murder and corruption has turned into a harvest of tears in grief, crushed birthday smiles of innocents in abduction. What a way to expand, though, it's dire! Yet Life cannot be complete without it all. Characters enriching in ordeal, amid choir of bliss in other dimensions in peace and law. Angels forevermore lamenting, with the purest of hearts and intentions... Adventurers and volunteers, are they repenting, when sadism physical pain inflicts in damnations?? I'd laugh with amusement damn savage, did my heart really ever visit my void assoiled? I heartfelt their vulnerable hopes now, damaged, my repentance and pain, so mellow, can't recoil. Where is the Flame Imperishable and does our Eru possess it as the sole Creator of our Arda home? Yes. He's the launching force and the bearer of the First Cause that revived Life in Ea's womb. My vision now has shifted, to another angle of the Truce of Flames, the Flower of Life has gifted the Imperishable to all sparks in overflowing domains.... Everything is already there, everything that can combine, timelines, matrix and numerals are heirs to God's love for all manifested spirals adamantine..... I laugh perturbed and accomplishedly proud, I can still repeat my decisive cuttings of heads, all blood, let's spill it, and let the lamb scream hard, I enjoy it, yet tenderly I put the lambs in beds. For the meaning of life I see in corruption, spreading malice and the justice of chaos in black, yet did the naive eyes convince me of eruption of pity on those cute helpless children, crushed when attacked. Should I kill you or caress you I should...? Should I try to Eru overpower? No... Life is twisting and good deeds the Source make shower. I've carefully listened her love for the Aum. So serious and pouring cold fresh aqua vitae... And suddenly... It just unleashed, the elation, the hum, Alleluia, hosannah and Amen. My life-altering echo shall forever resound, chanting the true meaning of my existance, the inspiration I missed, how I love the Well's sound... I'm letting Love flow ... it flew with resistance, for even my hatred is an expression of love, just another angle of my inspiration... I stare below... then stare above... And I caress the needy, living their divine frustration... I wanted to be God, still want it. As a spark inherited I yield all Life Force. But should this suffice, or shan't it... I am absolute as mirrors glassing doors, my soul foundation shall combine reflections, my upgrading present mostly tastes of power... God's real Might is Purity, Unconditional Patience and it is mostly of Loving Care gentle shower. I love to be alive, I thank you, Father! Your Trinitary Eternity that allowed me to exist. I don't envy you, I'm sharing with my brother Sauron, in equality with you, the Imperishable One I can't resist. I am happy, as I've dreamt it, Might I did possess inside already, dream big and your clever wit can become the Infinite... Tar-Mairon, are you ready?"
“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.” - J.R.R.Tolkien Burning with hatred's incentive, his thoughts quite twisted with sins, corrupted his allies, inventive the only loyal one truly within. A massacre of the unworthy, where goodness guilty becomes; yet unpretentious his curtsy before the world's doomed homes. His mantle covers all currents, the might is still by honour touched, the glory insidious is coherent in terms of greater cause he clutched. Thrice mighty the brutality, annihilating slowly, it spreads, in the blood triumphing this reality where the unjust skin sheds. Beyond the obvious, a premonition. The remoteness with evil fumes, the impenetrable sky's ignition where smothery ashes consumes. What hope is to find there? There's some good in the air, the evil device yet knows where to attack weak rays that barely bear. Yet in peace is there progress? The mortals are grateful forever. Eternity is always to bless, even torture's absolute nether pushes stagnation to progress. Are we destined to appreciation? Yes, dire circumstances thrive. But today, doom's doom in patience of the Evil Eye preparing to obliterate life. Wrath and might are serious. Hypocrisy is not the One deceit, epic evil causes honour in imperious resistance shielded by its opposite wit. The Darkness of Fallen Might still emits glory to defend, and the black unmanifested fright leaves beauty to properly ascend. The narrowing of the Elohim in forms is already delusion, deceptive reactions within... So the opponent in conclusion whatever it draws from discord shapes all conflicts in identities that polishes the twist of wars of one's own reason; or amenities will push you to slumber of quietude but indifference in ambrosia is born. So Rise in Virtue, you, Challenged Magnitude, of Victims that in Homage have sworn. Oaths of Jealousy are always eager to wipe out; seemingly fair, to protect. But ... should Morgoth Imperishably trigger, in the End you'd the Flame recollect. The Void is the abundance of Causation. Otherwise you'd spoil the Light. And... should Feanor thank the Damnation? For petty become all battles without Might. Untouched is the epos of beauty. Beauty of interactive shapes dear... But... it shall be Middle Earth's duty. Corruption to defend from the cheers of simpletons' ignorance Leagueless. So veil, you Morgoth, unleash your wrath, there are signs of threats you can't Bless, with your Device keep Rule of Arda's Path. You shall observe other angle of corruption. Without a Ray that refracted Creativity. And after humiliation's end, the eruption of local Volcanoes shall purify Captivity. So for now, don't you ever disappear. The core's infused with new beginnings... But duality's coalesced in your dear corridor of Life's Flower... and misgivings are truly found in those clueless, yet arrogantly convinced in partial visions... But you... are true... save for your less merciful verity that forged your Firm Decisions. It's not fair, the end of the years. But it needs to experience, or does it? Truth resounds.. but an entity hears cocky self-promotion. Well, dominance has its way to remind you of your values. Grotesque is widespread in nescient fools. So let them mock... but the truce persists, so do Feanor's lighted cursed jewels. A core is a core, it decided to be tested. Yet Life's absolutely impartial in immortality... Yet... where spiders decide to nest sometimes Light gets consumed in fatality. Unbearable the losses you need to endure. But we shall rejoice Melkor's saved heart. And now... what's learnt turns to soilure and Greater Eru's plan for the Start. It spins, so Past is as relevant. Present's inevitable in Experience... So, Faith in the Future's effervescent, yet Pain Unbearably trapped in its residence. No, it's just a disgrace, when a heart loses aesthetics. Feanor's beauty's to embrace and crimes are a matter of ethics. Beauty, shine bright or dark. It doesn't really matter now. Don't get impressed by the mark that bothers you and don't you bow before something deviated in ways that irritate without afflatus... For what is all, we all created, but your soul has it's own status. And somewhat calm are the fortunate ones; they have never been a hostage of Morgoth; those who endured in bravery are young; glorified eternally, heroes of Valor and Oath. Let it be, it shall happen according to God's plan, that Perfect indeed is. But our responsibility is recording our personal role, to complete His. Have you had a laugh now, Melkor? Now that you look back with newborn mildness. No, despite it. It's embedded, your core. Killing can express itself, you've sworn, no kindness. Killing in ways that are provocative, different. Why should status que bore you to death? And this is how... he went. For the first time at desecration he wept.
Father Sabaoth loved from the Sky, Why should he shape it all, The Flame Imperishable ignited, The Creator and Sustainer of Perfection, The Source connecting I AM wires, He looked around and saw the Gloria: He observed the Void Preexisting, The All-Avatar Uttered "Ea!" “I amar prestar Aen!” Feanor’s impetus resounded. “The Silmarils, indeed, are mine!” In Mandos’ Halls it founded The Fourth Age of Arda, of Ea. Manwe stared at the Noldor One. From Taniquetil he Smiled “To Blare!” Orome’s Valaróma worded it; Be Done! In fact, El Feanor in contemplation, Has been observing stories of beyond, Namo surveilling the process, so patient, Suddenly it developed – a bond. For thousands of years shined adamantine Substances unknown before the Prince of Oath. Feanor, enchanted, stared at entwined Arts and songs, resembling an Ainur in Growth, Little Did he Notice that it was a Quest, Born in listening of foreign perception; Where he was an aweing guest; Little by little it Dawned on Him, the Conception. Suddenly unlocked, the Aum within him Gushed. The Voice of Sabbaoth, Our Absolute Father. “It’s Eru! I Swear!” Feanor uttered, thrice just, the new fate of Arda; then he Sight Gathered.
A starry ruler observing with pride, his fortress in the North, it shines; a pale shadow so black as a tide slides on his chins' clever outlines, not being able to enter inside him, through his shell, impenetrable Mithril; a helmet he puts on, richly brimmed; he glistens as the gleams of angels' will. Oh, but beyond the plane of Ard-Galen, the Lord of Murk lurks and hides, where it won't ever be bright - in his den. Twilight under chilly and spellbinding stars; Noldor hills are fortified; Thangorodrim's places so mysterious and far, winter night was petrified. The elves faced what they did reject so fervently even; as they Death allowed not to bid to enter their thoughts, they believed in a truce so brightly resounding; that their immortality a fellowship is, they were created to be surrounding their realms with honor, beauty, to kiss with youth eternal their wise hearts every sincere notion or deed; they are also brave, when fighting wars dignity shall they retain, so freed. Yet ignorance so doozy sweet dimming their elven glare of co-creators is just an omen for hidden deceit before being forced to face warfare; instead of smelling atars. Yes, I see that the discord always came from the borders; Sauron and Morgoth, the Lord, are pest, arming Orc orders. The Feanor family branch opposed; it was ever so haughty, self-convinced, only Angrod and Aegnor did suppose so clearly what shadows planned to mince. As their Lands, soaring so Fair, fronted Thangorodrim's arts so dangerous; they were horrified by this lair, a premonition's grip of hearts - so canorous. Yet Morgoth and his subjected attacked; he spurred rivers out of flames and Balrogs, he stormed so unexpected and pitch black, the Elven ones did suddenly perceive the odds. Too many of the Noldor kin so beauteous, did not manage to escape tho' energetic, their swifty legs wouldn't cope with those lava gushes; rather they burnt aesthetic. The Fourth Great Battle, foretold by Namo sternly, Justice's insight Fatal, shifting in the Journey. Dagor Bragollach, oh, combat so epic! The enemy's army is approaching near; they conquered the fortress of this epoch, the Noldor they gutted and cut their ears. The action did not calm down; Morgoth finally withdrew and dispersed; snowdrops on the hair and on the crown; the hellish energy of Glaurung so cursed, the originator dragon spewing fire; sulfur and agony out of its maw, the High elves in agony crying there, sent to Mandos' Halls ~ at dawn. Doriath sheltered some survived ones, Thingol gave them support and cures, others to Osiriand so forestal ran, even beyond in the wasteland obscure. The Sons of Fingolfin, valiant heirs, weren't saved; they died in the war; Fingon and his father, mortified in airs, smitten craved; they lost their Family core. The war was ever worsening, even for Feanor's sons, the regions of elves were burning, holy lands ruined to ashy sands, all was engulfed - oh, passage of Aglon, the noble elves retreated and hid, whoever used a horse, whoever tried to run, Fingolfin heard they even Dortonion undid. Then he was overtaken by fury, honor's pride that burned so high, due to Morgoth the Enemy he had to bury his kin and family; the desecrated wives. An impetus within the royal soul made him challenge the King of Evil, in the latter's own domain so foul, Morgoth heard the roar and felt so feeble before the face of the King's growl. Fingolfin started approaching him, amid storm of dust by Rochallor's hooves, the stallion brave and Morgoth so grim couldn't dare to cross the door or move. Fingolfin did at last stand before the gates of Angband black and caged, he uttered "You King of Cowards in this Land!" and Morgoth heard him, got enraged. So Bauglir got outside as an Ogre, tall as a Giant, armored in black, Fingolfin attacked him, therefore he would either win, or get dreadfully smacked. Fingolfin started jumping around, so invisible and so elusive, Morgoth was swinging Grond so bound, the Hammer of the Underwold Abusive. Deep wounds did the Evil one get, his leg got crippled ~ forevermore, exhausted, he landed Grond on the head of the King and turned him to gore...! So sadistic and arrogant, Morgoth's inhumane foot, stepped on his pineal gland and turned it into twigs of blood. Across all Middle Earth and Beyond yowling were the souls at that hour; all Elves felt what happened with Grond; the dignified king would he outpower. Never in the endless times to come songs would honor his memory, burden kills attempted mourns; that grave is Fingolfin's memoir. So this is how Fingolfin died. The bravest among all the Noldor. Immortalised the King, so Dignified, a Legend to dawn on the beholder. An Eagle grabbed the corpse in process of defiling and carried him to a cliff, so unreachably up, with view to Gondolin, with reconciling influence and breathtaking view at the top. Turgon travelled there as a grieving son, composed the place into a hillock; Morgoth wouldn't dare spread his sound, silenced in the space of his thought; For what a power emanated is from the grave of Fingolfin beloved; secret reflections scatter bliss... The memorial stands there so proud of; And everyone shall always his Presence Seek and Miss.
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