by a tree

There he is sitting by a tree
interpreting his own dreams
all the apples mature there
streaks of colour in his hair
I'm the tear running down his skin
I'm in the air surrounding him
He's so drunk on fantasies
he might not remember me
curse the ordinary pace
change the function of this place
I hope that he dreams again
that I'm the conscience in the rain

D'aak and Monuzamog 01

When Lord Monu’zamog conquered Enda Hweleh, the only City of Iykr, a heavy silence was cast over the plains, and the song of the winds commanded by elemental spirits, ceased to echo.

The rocks gazed at the eternal sky and the depths of the earth communicated no more secrets through the soil to the creatures that crawled on its skin.
The Gaa Galw, great desert was put to sleep and the dull waters of the great Lake Tementeshwa, splashed gently upon the yellow sand of the shores of Enda Hweleh, the last resort of the people of Mehenin that had come to this place, aeons ago for causes that were now almost forgotten. 

The folk had not disappeared; but they were now ruled by Monuzamog; the Archon who had travelled through space, to claim this seemingly empty planet. It is said, that he was a true descendant of Bo, the force who ruled the chaos before the Son of Suns came to defeat him; though it was thought until now, that when he fell, there was nothing left of his legacy.

There was nothing too unusual about the Archons appearance; he was not a reptilian monster or an insect king; he was not unlike any anthropomorphic creature; though in the long gone time of humans, he would be classified as a demon or an angel; by the folk of this realm he was seen as something similar to themselves; for the people of Iyakareh, were not quite like mankind. They might have descended from mankind or mankind might descend from them, sometime when time is blurred and cyclical. They might have been related in some direct or more indirect way; but there were differences between the two races that were most fundamental.

Monuzamog was not an evil master for in his purest essence he knew no evil. And he was not good either, because he knew no good. Those concepts were foreign to him as he himself would have been to humanity if ever he encountered it. Monuzamog was fact, knowledge, and time. Time so old, time so vast, a kind of time inconceivable by mortals; his existence made of different substance. Monuzamog was tranquil; and his tranquillity was what was brought by him and it had enveloped the land. Monuzamog was not hated, nor did he hate the people. The people were not enslaved. But he did as it pleased him to do. And so he was Lord of Iyakareh, ruling silently in the Lone City.

He had a palace, of pale coloured stone, whose simple halls, with tall pillars and huge windows were filled with constant morn-like light, and blessed with the air that was clean and came as a breeze from the Galw.

It had always been serene here. Long before he came. But it was as if built especially for him. As if his arrival was predicted, or as if a long time ago the idea was sent as a dream to the architects perhaps, by him, on purpose.
There were some creeping plans on certain columns and arches, but the place was mostly devoid of vegetation. There were spacey balconies and in the centre of every one of the main chambers there was a small bowl of odourless incense balanced on a cylindrical stone in the middle of the room, always burning.

There was almost no furniture, and were there was fabric it was thin and white and flowy.

The palace was a place of humble, almost ascetic regality by appearance. It was the home of Monuzamog and his generals.

Interdimensional

I take a breath of living air
As I melt into the floor
I keep forgetting my own name
As I'm being drunk by gods
I am spinning in the void
In a cosmic hurricane
out of flesh and out of time
"We are merely travelling"
I can see a million worlds
I have been the fractal mind
Everything I dream is true
I'm inter-dimensional.