|Open wide, space and time distort the mind.|
The Pillar of BeingI. MuladharaThe Pillar of Being by ~tanksmallcape
Of the solid imminence
Earth beneath our feet
The domain of change
The sublime fluidity
And the vast ocean
That which is felt but unseen
Churning void of air
Heart-mind of passion
Governing the rising force
Throat of the yogic body
Music of the spheres
Seat of all wisdom
Flowering psychic organ
Of the outer planes
The supernal mind
Ten thousand-petaled lotus
PermafrostMicrocosmic descent of icy deathPermafrost by ~tanksmallcape
From nebulous skies of ages past
Like silver dust from the Monarch's breath
Summer finally breathes its last
Across Star-Riddled SkiesI have gazed upon countless other worlds;Across Star-Riddled Skies by ~tanksmallcape
I have heard the whispering of the spheres.
Across the yawning blackness of the void,
into my dying body's ears.
The wonders I behold provide solace
from an existence wretched and scarce to keep
My earthly form lies crippled
in eternal haunted sleep.
My soul flies across burning nebulas;
above the frozen peaks of dying stars.
Over the crystal seas of Venus
and the towering pyramids of Mars.
Yet there is no place for me here
beneath this boundless cosmic dome
For I have gazed upon countless other worlds
but still I cannot find home.
The Murder of Rasputin"Hurry, Dmitry! His car will be here any minute."The Murder of Rasputin by ~tanksmallcape
The suave, well-dressed man walked into a small, dimly-lit living room, carrying a silver tray of pastries and setting it urgently upon an ornate coffee table. Both of the men in the room were young, had sleek hair combed back, and were bare of facial hair.
"Do not worry, Felix." Dmitry whispered. "We have all the time we require."
Upon the table was also a bottle of wine; glasses too. A fireplace roared and illuminated the equally ornate Baroque-style room with flickering orange light. Despite the festive appearance, the atmosphere was one filled with apprehension and nervous silence.
Grand Duke Dmitry Pavlovich donned a pair of white work gloves and sat on the sofa over the tarts strewn across the table. Taking a small paper envelope from his pocket, he opened it and slowly sprinkled a white powder onto half of the pastries.
"Potassium Cyanide. Th