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Ode to Extinction

by Dysorthogenesis

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1.
Last Messiah 06:00
Man once awoke And first saw himself, A break in the unity of life, A monstrosity, an absurdity. A species too greatly armed. Its weapon like a sword without hilt, It must be held by its blade, And we turn one edge Against ourselves. Man looks out on the earth, And it breathes, like a great lung; Exhaling, life exits its pores; But taking in its breath, A rustle of spirits breaking Sweeps through the multitudes, And their corpses lash the ground Like showers of hail. Man did not only see The count of his own days, But graves were exhumed to his view, The cries of grotesque cadavers, The veil of the future was torn aside, Revealing a nightmare Of endless repetition. And even as he stands At the precipice of death, He shapes new, terrifying promises Behind that fearsome door. Now at last we can trace the outline Of our cosmic state: Condemned to nameless horrors. If we follow this thought through to the bitter end, The final conclusion cannot be escaped: As long as man toils beneath The pure delusion that he will conquer the earth, No alleviation of this great angst for life Can ever be a possibility. A man will come forth, Who before all others Strips his soul naked, And gives himself over To our deepest question, Even unto the thought of extinction. And such a rising howl, From all the tribes of the earth, Crying for his thousand-fold execution. When his voice blankets the world Like a funeral shroud, His message will be heard For the first and last time: The mark of annihilation Is written on thy brow. How long will ye mill on the edge? But there is one victory And one salvation Know thyselves; Be unfruitful And leave peace on Earth After thy passing.
2.
Maelstrom 04:13
A moment of enlightenment, and we realized that we’re no one. The lightning flashed and we saw it was all a desert plain. And, in the same sinister light that revealed us to ourselves, There seemed to be no sky above. If ever we were born again, We did so without ourselves, without a self to reincarnate. The outskirts of some non-existent town, the prologue to A book that’s not yet written. We’re no one, no one, Hovering in the air, undone before we've yet existed, Amongst the dreams of someone who’s Yet to give life to their creation. Falling, falling, through the infinite of space The swirling of a vast ocean around a hole inside the void, And in the waters float the scenes of all we ever knew: Faces, voices, houses, books, All caught up in a sinister whirlpool. Falling, falling, through the infinite abyss. We are the nothing, around which this all churns, Exist so it can spin and spin, always traveling nowhere. We are the center, decreed geometric existence, The midpoint that must persist, for every circle has one. We are the well, in which the walls have given way, To leave behind just a viscid slime, Surrounded by the great nothing. It’s as if hell itself were laughing from within us, The mad croak of the dead cosmos, The circling cadaver of space. Thus comes the end of all, drifting blackly in the wind, Misshapen, anachronistic, without the God who created, Without the God itself who turns, And turns in the darkest of darks, Impossible, unique, everything.
3.
Elegiaque 05:34
In danger, the holothurian divides itself in two: Abandons one self to a hungry world And with the other self it flees. Splits violently into perdition and salvation, Retribution and reward, What has been and what will be. A chasm appears in the middle of its body Between what instantly becomes two foreign shores. Life on one side, death on the other. Here hope and there despair. If there are scales, the balance does not tip. If there is justice, this is it. To die as much as needed, without excess. To grow back as required, from the remnant that survives. We, too, can divide ourselves. But only into flesh and a broken whisper. Into body and spirit. The throat on one side, Laughter on the other, Quiet, quickly dying out. Here a heavy heart, There non omnis moriar— Just three simple words, Like three feathers in flight. The abyss does not cut us in two, The abyss surrounds us.

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released March 1, 2022

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Dysorthogenesis Carrboro, North Carolina

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