The Devil and the Children III
“What is death?” asked an eager eyed little girl. The Devil stared long into the girl’s deep blue eyes, marveling at the innocent curiosity expressed over so morbid a subject.
He smiled. “Death is many things,” he replied.
Another child raised his hand. “But why do we die? I thought that God loved us? Why do we die?”
The Devil sighed. “Why do you live?” No answer. “It is not the love of a god, or lack thereof, which determines your being and your ceasing to be. Before your kind began exerting its will over nature, fire burned the lands for weeks on end, eating everything in its path, gnashing away indiscriminately with its orange, flaming teeth. The waste that was the byproduct of its feast was the blackened soil, newly enriched in its own demise. What came of destruction and death – what came of hell – was life, new and abundant, green and vivacious. Death, my children, is the key to the door through which we find life. We die because we must live.
“We are neither the first that was nor the last that will be; we die to complete creation and, thus, to find perfection. Without death, there could be no life. Were your God a truth, I could only imagine this to be the most concrete and sincerest expression of God’s love. What is real is the cycle; Universes come and go, the first informing the next, in this fashion, into that great, yawning expanse so vast we can only call it eternity. Why you must die, children, is so you may one day live as you were meant to.”
Copyright © 2012 Sahm Ataine King
The Devil and the Children II
“I am the Devil,” he whispered softly, almost as if to himself. “Humor me as I illustrate for you the fallacy of your ways.” He sighed. “Children, what do you know of beauty?” The furtive glances of the onlookers gave away the limitations of their scopes, the abundance of ignorance contained within each little eye that gazed into his own. “I see. If you are to understand one thing in your lives, it is this; that the world was indeed made, but not by the Word of a much noted and inflated deity. No, my children; the world was forged within the heart of stars. Therein lay the beauty.
“That this most improbable of Universes came to be, a mere accident, is of a beauty that should be appreciated if only for the simple fact that, in all probability, it should not be.”
“And how is it that you are?” one child asked. “You are the most supreme of evils. What say you to your being?”
The Devil could only laugh, mirthless and hollow. He knew their bones chilled. “I am surely the Devil, but supreme evil I am not. Whatever adversary must come against a ‘confirmed’ fact, the confirmation of which comes from a voice within your head, that adversary must surely be evil; such is the weakness of your supple minds, that you can only deny truths and cling to your fallacious notions even in the face of evidence and reason. Can you not see the beauty, children? An accident and, for most of you a fortunate one. Ask yourselves why perfection should care to engage in creation when perfection has all it needs within itself? Ask yourselves why perfection should care for beauty when perfection is the ultimate beauty?
“The probability that you exist is so minute as to be virtually impossible; that this world of yours has the perfect conditions for life; that it is at precisely the right distance from its star for water not to freeze solid or boil away; that it has a moon, dug from its womb, set just so that it may balance the planet and command the tides that you who walk upon this world’s face may not drown in the ire of its seas; this, my children, is beauty. Even with the precision with which this Genesis has occurred, it is not divine will from which this world is born. Your Universe, your world, your very lives are an accident; a beautiful, beautiful accident.”
Copyright © 2012 Sahm Ataine King
Vivaldi - Storm
In a Word, Light
I am the ridicule of a dying Sun
who
in her throes
forgot that you were her only living child
and that a thousand others were stillborn
and left to roam naked through the void
mockeries to the beginning of all things
a beginning in which no thing seemed possible
beyond this happy accident
- or this folly of a miracle -
you call home
Forgive my laughter;
I know that she cannot will to live
beyond what she has taken
from the amniotic dust of the dying star
that bore her
the greater part of which
she gave to children
who were not close enough to her heart
to bloom within her sheltering
and oh so destructive
light.
Copyright © 2012 Sahm Ataine King
VI of XIII
I smelled blasphemies belched from Sheol
and recoiled at utterances of praise;
damnations were torrents of acid rain
and the flood burned away hope
as the light of a tortured smile
graced the haunted eyes of Death.
Copyright © 2012 Sahm Ataine King
V of XIII
Folly lay in the word choice;
hear me roar
and say nothing
hear me laugh
and kill mirth
hear me speak and spit venom
dying in the fire of words
Copyright © 2012 Sahm Ataine King
WOW @ tumblrdatinggame(.)com WTF is this.. my little brother's roommate is on this and I think I saw you too lol
I’m not entirely sure what this is… In fact, there is only one thing I am sure of; not one single flying fuck will be given this day. Thank you. Do not come again.
» Asked by Anonymous
IV of XIII
Beginning with her favorite six words <3
Integrity, understanding, originality, unity, life, fun;
we drink from our various cups
and spill it over smiling lips
friendly, unassuming, and natural; good things.
Copyright © 2012 Sahm Ataine King
III of XIII
On M-Theory
I saw through eyes of numbers,
the untainted meaning of the Sunrise;
God was naught but vibrating strings.
Copyright © 2012 Sahm Ataine King
II of XIII
Trinity weeps saline in crystalline rivulets
as Darwin succumbs to evolution’s annulment.
Copyright © 2012 Sahm Ataine King
I of XIII
Chimeras falter in the Sun’s gaze…
Copyright © 2012 Sahm Ataine King
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In language, there is magic, and in a word, a thousand and one ideas. Even in darkness, there is light, and every virtue must be tainted with a fault.
Such is the philosophy of Sahm Ataine King, the acceptance of all the things that make the self; the coming to grips with the monsters and the heroes that exist within us all.
Enter the mind of a virtual unknown, an artist with a penchant for controversy, expression, and coming face to face with the self; enter L’aria Onyx, the newest collection of poetic renditions from Sahm Ataine King.
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