The sands of pitch

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‘Tis ‘cursed luck that ‘pon the eye
Of newly blooded sight
The ancient ghosts should rise on up
O’er the sands so white.

The land infused with emerald skies
Their void and rapid essence,
Do tell of kingdoms gobbled up
By Time’s malicious presence.

O as I stand upon the rocks,
The granite, grit stained stones,
I look to yonder hill so high
Where lie the ancient bones
Of man and beast and godly kin
They all seem so alike,
In presence of that one so sly:
The Scottish Sea Wind Wight.

He stands upon the fertile cliffs
And gazes ‘pon the sea,
Yet only when the moon doth rise
Shall the spirit be at ease.

He glides about the murky caves
The ancient caverns sly,
With but a sword from bygone days
O where his death was nigh.

Condemned to hang for Treason’s vines
Which seeped around his lips
And plunged their vulgar poisons ‘pon
His serpentine like whip.

So lost is enraged spirit coy
He’s turned the land to dust
Where once the trees and waters sung
Even the sand doth rust.

And as I make my way up to
Where he did free the ghost,
The air around grows torpid fast
And hints at undead host.
The form I see by rotting wood
Is like that from some dream,
The rancid sort where Mortals are
Engulfed by Faerie’s stream.

A pure gaunt face, his eyes are hallowed
And sunken into bone,
And where they should have shone a blue
A tragic red doth roam.

He’s formless though he looks as man,
Yet I cannot so bring,
My eyes and mind to know of thing
That rules as Hade’s king.

Now the truth comes flooding back,
In rows of fiery gore,
The land is green, the rope is fresh
So that swift death’s ensured.

The Scottish Wight is soul of mine,
An essence yet to come,
And as I fall through open trap
I’m left to Devil’s Run.

Cinders – Promote Yourself

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sycamore

‘Tis indeed a pitiful dwelling, left to Time’s evictions;

It rests amidst a vibrant town,

Where it must watch, through the immortal frost,

As lives are lived and lives are lost,

As days are reached and days are past

Beneath the gaze of skipping stars.

 

I stand alone in that forgotten heart

As night pirouettes and gracefully parts,

Almost as though it remembers

That hollow den.

 

Out in the orchard an owl hums,

Hooting beneath a moonless sky.

The faded curtains host the silverfish,

They flap gently as the zephyr

Rasps through the broken windows;

The vines creak.

 

The higher floors are nearly faded,

Woven back into the fertile earth.

The rafters o’er head are draped

In dark-born cobwebs which sway like hopeless fingers

In that sorrowful house.  

 

On a peeling wall, riddled with mites,

A woeful portrait sleeps in tragedy.

The wonky hinge tilts the…

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The spirit of the ash

ash
A calm, gentle breeze slowly wafted throughout the sunlit giants of that still and tranquil place. The early morning dew still hangs upon the leaves so green like damp soothing crystals, projecting the warm radiant light, bestowed so graciously upon them by the heart of the sky, into bizarre and wondrous shapes like no other. The smell of ash and soot hangs fondly within the fabric of that place as if it has made its presence known many a time but those remnants of its maker remain unseen; hidden within the depths of that most mysterious of all forests. And no man whom walks upon that floor of dust shall rest their eyes upon the one, whom stirs the smell of smoke and ash within that most, tranquil of places…

The weary traveller

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A crackling star above the earth,

Diamond of mine gaze,

It rests amidst fair daylight’s frost

Simmering in the haze.

 

O I am lost, myself slung into Winter.

 

As I stride across the tangled seas,

Looking down into that inferno,

I spy the tangled wisps and maddened sprites,

The lunatics and beggars.

All did share those emerald foams,

Yet not is there one place for me.

 

So I plummet into the reddened eye,

Those places that the night holds fast

When all the good and daylight’s past.

 

‘Tis as though all the life’s gone from me,

What is left is some drained spirit

That watches the fair chains and cords

Of which our world consists.

 

For what, dear reader, is in a world?

Not simply a swelling of molten stone,

Nor the rustling trees and weeping lakes.

 

It must be us that’s in a world:

Our passage through Chronis

Until the frost lands devour us.

Those everyday happenings,

As we busy about,

Fretting about the things our lords never did.

Yet what are we once they’ve departed,

Flown back to the nothingness

From whence they came?

 

A low whirring of ghostly cogs

As they turn and slide but do not live.

They stare on out through silvered eyes

To see the land, yet not its hide

That must be worn to ‘scape demise.

 

I let the world slip away, returning to my soul,

In the hope that it will cure me.

Alas, Tomorrow’s morn’,

I wake afresh

O yet do I not awake anew.

The sullen face of Time and Sorrow

Cannot so be wooed.

We are arrogant

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A continuation from yesterday’s post (Faith: A double edged sword), it has occurred to me that all the disciplines which attempt to understand the nature of the world we live in have a common factor that was not necessarily always present throughout history. It is the assumption that any chosen discipline, of a certain level of academic vigour, has the potential to uncover all that there is to be known in the certain sphere of knowledge that it pursues.

But this is simply not the case, do we really believe that human beings, creatures that have existed for a minuscule amount of time in contrast to everything else, have developed the sufficient cognitive ability to comprehend all that is knowable and put an end to speculation on metaphysical and scientific matters?

This is sheer arrogance and the extent of this arrogance becomes clear when one examines the idea of a conceptual scheme. At the foundation of our ability to reason and conceptualise rests an underlying system which results in the basic formations of logic and grammar. All humans possess the same conceptual scheme (even the speakers of other languages, they are still based on the same, logical foundation) whereas other organisms such as squirrels and rabbits do not possess the correct categories of the brain to be able to conceptualise in such a way. In fact, evidence suggests that the conceptual scheme can be lost if certain parts of the brain are damaged and hence providing strong evidence for such categories being produced by the brain and not being independent of it.

If this is the case then our conceptual scheme (that which we base all our disciplines upon) is nothing more than a product of evolution, hence we cannot even claim that tautologies are correct, they may simply be how we view the world. Our conceptual scheme could have quite easily turned out differently if our evolution had been influenced by other factors. It is even possible that extraterrestrial lifeforms that have developed a conceptual scheme possess one that is a complete deviation from our own. We could never hope to understand any form of language they might possess since their minds would not even be logical in the way ours are.

This raises this idea that there are some things that we simply cannot know, in other words, forbidden knowledge that exists beyond human comprehension. Our ancestors had such ideas of secret knowledge being possessed by the divine, perhaps we could learn a thing or two from their age old beliefs. For it is only when we accept our limitations that we can truly make progress in a discipline.

Cinders

Abanoned house

‘Tis indeed a pitiful dwelling, left to Time’s evictions;

It rests amidst a vibrant town,

Where it must watch, through the immortal frost,

As lives are lived and lives are lost,

As days are reached and days are past

Beneath the gaze of skipping stars.

 

I stand alone in that forgotten heart

As night pirouettes and gracefully parts,

Almost as though it remembers

That hollow den.

 

Out in the orchard an owl hums,

Hooting beneath a moonless sky.

The faded curtains host the silverfish,

They flap gently as the zephyr

Rasps through the broken windows;

The vines creak.

 

The higher floors are nearly faded,

Woven back into the fertile earth.

The rafters o’er head are draped

In dark-born cobwebs which sway like hopeless fingers

In that sorrowful house.  

 

On a peeling wall, riddled with mites,

A woeful portrait sleeps in tragedy.

The wonky hinge tilts the frame,

Crumbling in the half-light,

Towards the precarious floor boarding.

That sullen face sheds tears of cobalt

Which trace the loose threads of fabric.

 

Pulling back the snickering vines,

Stubborn in their stances,

I find a hefty bureau cast in pine.

It holds within its shivering clutches

Some sun-worn letter:

Yellowed parchment whose words are soft;

They are barely audible,

But just decipherable.

 

A solemn farewell those final lines convey,

And yet how ‘twas known their end was nigh,

Truth’s lips cannot be swayed.

 

As I ponder captured thoughts, I behold

A morose phantom sitting in the sycamore tree;

As the sun seeps through the heavens yond’

I see him clearly in the whim of dawn:

A forgotten soul, lost amongst the cinders.

Faith: A double edged sword

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 I have on occasions, and no doubt have done so alongside many others who are skeptical of religion, criticised the believe in metaphysical concepts, such as God, due to their heavy association with and dependence on faith. Although there exist many arguments which set out to prove the existence of such metaphysical phenomena, the truth of these matters usually comes down to a personal belief for most people; the truth no longer becomes what is important where religion is concerned, more what we would prefer to be true. Christianity claims to offer salvation through Christ, and Buddhism reincarnation. Religions are often criticised for being based on human inclinations and desires, the easy way out of the quest for knowledge and an appeal to the common man. And in many ways this criticism casts a black shadow upon belief in transcendent entities and afterlives, what we desire does not necessarily correlate with what is objective and knowable about the world. But what seems absolutely unacceptable is the arrogant assumption that the disciplines such as the sciences and philosophy are not open to this same criticism.

 Consider the sciences, they are empirical by their very nature since they use the senses to make observations about the world. But their method depends upon the assumption that our senses are in fact correct and that the information we receive from them is true and objective. Given the variety of criticisms that can be thrown at this assumption by the skeptic, we must accept that what we really do, when we carry out the scientific method and make statements about the world, is take the fact that our senses give us reliable, truthful knowledge on faith. The very thing we might criticise a follower of Christianity for doing.

 Similarly in philosophy we make the assumption that our conceptual scheme (the elementary principles including the basic building blocks logic and grammar which our mind possesses) is true and objective. If our own conceptual scheme is simply a product of evolution then we cannot say with certainty that it allows us to know anything meaningful about the world around us. Following this idea even tautologies could be doubtful since their truth might only be specific to our own conceptual scheme. When we formulate a theory in philosophy we must have faith that our conceptual scheme is more than simply a subjective byproduct of evolution.

 All disciplines require a certain degree of faith in order for anything of use to be acquired and for any matters of truth to be discerned. It would, then, be wrong (and not to mention ignorant) to criticise religion for having elements of faith to it since all our endeavours inevitably do the same. So long, of course, that the faith is not of the blind and irrational sense (that is, refusing to even listen to propositions which suggest the opposite of personal belief). So long as one is not utterly consumed by faith to the disregard of all else, we cannot, intelligently, criticise religion for such an attribute. Perhaps instead of doing so we should concentrate more on making the certainty of our own endeavours and disciplines more concrete and less dependant on that which we condemn others for wielding.

On Realism

 

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To claim that Universals, such as Justice, have an independent existence outside of the cognitive is to assume a certain type of connection between the mind and reality which is suggestive of some form of design and purpose of which we are the final end since the gulf must be reconciled between both the cognitive and existential conceptions of universals. Such a claim could only be held as true if the existence of some intelligent deity is postulated, and since we cannot do this seeing as such a proposition is neither a tautology nor empirically verifiable, it must be the case that such statements involving Realism are neither true nor false either. They have no factual significance.

The objective basis

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All that is not fundamental is subjective to the beholder. Any man can see that the past experiences we have are responsible for shaping the experiences we have in the now, not through any law of causality as such, but simply due to the impression the world makes upon us as we perceive it. We dig out habitual paths in the foundations of the mind through our everyday actions. By habitual pathways I refer to the everyday routines we imprint in our mind by repeating them reguallly, for example, leaving for work in the morning becomes, for many, a habitual pathway. Throughout the course of our routine we do not usually stop and examine individual objects in detail. If we do so then they become odd and unfamiliar even though we believed ourselves to have knowledge of them. They only appear familiar when associated with other things. Entities are only seen as similar when associated with our habitual pathways, think how different a stove would look on a king’s throne.

The way in which we live determines these habitual pathways. This causes different people to have different perceptions of entities and places due to their different habitual pathways which are influenced by environment. A doctor and sailor both look down a street together. Due to the different habitual pathways they have developed throughout their life they will see the street in very different ways to each other, and yet it is undoubtedly the same street they both perceive. So what is real of the street? If its perception is influenced by habitual pathways then its form, structure and meaning will vary from one person to the next.

But there must be something objectively true about the street else it would not exist. If something is subjective then its nature is ambiguous. This can be true to some extent. But there must be an underlying, objective basis that allows the existence of the entity. Else the entity could not exist, for without a solid foundation it would fall to pieces. A chameleon cannot change the colour (subjective) of its skin unless it has skin (the basis) in the first place to change. Likewise something can only take on different forms if there is a basis that allows this change. Even if the change is simply in the eye of the beholder. That is still change and change enough. Therefore things cannot be subjective without being objective at some level.

Therefore at the very heart of things there must reside some objective foundation which gives rise to the subjectivity and ambiguity present in the world we see before us. But what is this fundamental basis? It must be something that cannot be looked upon. If we can look upon then it has locality. If it has locality then it must be comprised of individual parts which a fundamental entity cannot be since that would undo its very definition. Therefore, if it cannot have locality, it must be more of a concept than a physical being. An immaterial idea in possession of certain characteristics. The fundamental basis is therefore divinely simple. Hence all of its attributes are one and the same. If this is the case then reality is built up of things without localities which are idea in themselves.

This suggests that space does not exist in the way in which we previously imagined and is not some continuous dimension through which we move. This raises issues however, if such fundamentals have no locality then how can space exist at all? But space does exist, the mere notion of fundamental building blocks contradictions the mind being able to perceive space, even if it were not real in the objective sense. Space is undoubtedly a real entity. Therefore these fundamentals must be located somewhere. If they have no locality then perhaps the idea of them is made present over a certain space. The entities themselves have no locality and yet they somehow extend their properties into space. If space is viewed more as a fabric consisting of threads (or some sort of mesh) then the paradox can be resolved when we look closer at the fabric.

Beyond the fabric there is no space, hence these transcendent-like entities could occupy this realm deeper than the fabric of space (excuse the slight fallacy but there is no way to talk about things ‘outside’ of space). Therefore fundamental entities must exist at a level deeper than the fabric of space. It therefore follows that there is a link between these fundamentals and space. Possibly to the point that the fabric of space itself makes the characteristics of the fundamentals present in our subjective reality.*

*(N.B. It is important to realise here that the realm these fundamentals occupy has no space since space must consist of this fabric. Therefore the state these fundamentals occupy goes beyond our comprehension since we lack the necessary perception to behold that which is beyond space.)