Every Frog Has its Day
***
"Thought Crumbs" is the blog of yours truly, Al Scott Pearce Baker. Here, I scatter musings, short stories, poetry, and paintings, and ponder various art forms, both traditional and digital. Follow along, and who knows where you’ll end up.
Incident at Ephesus
***
Apollonius spoke with an otherworldly aura. His voice, a mellifluous resonance, echoed not just in the minds gathered in the agora, but within the very soul of Ephesus. "Take heart," he proclaimed, his gaze fixed far to the west, as if to an unseen horizon, "for the tyrant has met his end this day." The crowd, initially skeptical, soon murmured in incredulous acknowledgment, as if the elements themselves validated his proclamation. In that moment, the Ephesians embraced the transformative power of prophecy, and rejoiced for a new era marked by the demise of Domitian and the promise of a brighter future.
False Start
***
The ritual backfired horrifically. The swirling energy, once benign, took on a monstrous dark shape. Far away, birds scattered - startled from their nests by a violent, sudden scream. The beast lunged, shadows converged, and the caster was violently devoured. The grove fell eerily silent, its soot-stained trees conveying a haunting warning without uttering a single word.
Act Magic
***
To live like a magician, suspend judgment. Cut the cords of linear thought that bind to the mundane. Respond with the subconscious, where creativity thrives beyond the confines of routine thinking.
Delve into the subconscious intentionally. Through mindfulness or cryptic dreams, uncover latent truths. Let the subconscious paint its revelations on the canvas of daily life, guiding authentic self-discovery.
Symbols and synchronicity are the language. Decode the mundane into the symbolic. Live in synchronicity, interpreting meaningful coincidences as guideposts on the path of personal evolution.
Craft personal narratives deliberately. Become the author of your own saga, infusing each chapter with purpose. Life, then, becomes a tapestry woven from the strands of experience.
Live with perpetual wonder. See the world as an enchanting spectacle, a stage for the alchemy of existence. Transform the ordinary into the extraordinary, embracing the marvelous in the everyday.
Mysticism is an invitation – a call to transcend the known, to venture into the uncharted territories of self and cosmos. It's an exploration not just of living but of becoming.
Eleusis
***
In stygian Eleusis, moon's pale glow withers,
Murmurs coil boughs, secret vows whispered.
Initiates light eldritch fires, piercing cosmic abyss,
Persephone's wail echoes, haunting ethereal hiss.
***
Torches illuminate nightmarish path, sanity unraveled,
Symbols woven into the rite, madness traveled.
Through accursed hallways, Demeter's cosmic chase,
Sacrament profane, unveiling darkened embrace.
***
Hierophant's threshold, keeper of lore's blackened core,
Mysteries unfold, revelation through abyss explored.
No words, only echoes of chants, hanging in accursed air,
Eleusis, harbinger of enigmas, where horrors declare.
***
O Eleusis, shadows and dread moonlit dance,
Seeker merge, soul ascends, remnants enhance.
A vessel for revelations, ineffable concealed,
Whispers hush, lights flash, mysteries are revealed.
An Angry Song
***
Crucible of fury, flames alight,
Soul ablaze with Promethean plight.
Chained to anger, consumed by the night,
Icarus shackled lacking flight.
***
Punching walls, symphony of rage,
wrath of Zeus on a vengeful stage.
Hephaestus forging in ire,
A fiery tempest, mythical pyre.
***
On fire within, a phantom's dance,
A turbulent waltz, the Furies' advance.
Dark thoughts swarm, Harpies unseen,
A tempestuous anguish, a storm so keen.
***
Fists meet walls, an unholy alliance,
A desperate plea for divine defiance.
Red stains mark the canvas of despair,
An angry phantom, caught in its own snare.
***
No release in sight, just echoes of pain,
Like Sisyphus' boulder, all struggle in vain.
Prisoner of torment, shackled by disdain,
Modern-day captive, wrestling with chains.
***
Yet deep within the tempest's cruel might,
Lies a flicker of hope, a dimming light.
As Persephone rises from the underworld's fold,
Hope blossoms in Hades, a tale retold.
***
For even in the darkest hour's embrace,
There exists a space for divine grace.
To temper the flames, Athena's wise soul,
To mend the wounds, Apollo's healing stroll.
***
So, let anger dissipate like smoke,
Release pommel's grip, unbind chains that choke.
Embrace the journey, leap the Elysian flight,
For within the darkness, hope makes a light.
Song for February
***
In union, intertwine,
A dance time fades.
Each thrust, love's cascade,
Melting, passion's design.
***
On Turnus' fate, the battlefield's cruel stage,
The spear's sharp thrust pierces through destiny.
Its weight, a burden carried endlessly,
Reverberates through Rome, an ancient rage.
***
Upon the cross, a silent figure hangs,
A sacrifice that penetrates the soul.
The spear's cruel thrust, a paradoxical toll,
Opens the eye of imagination's fangs.
***
In history's rhyme, the tales intertwine,
Thrust, pierce, and penetrate, their echoes chime.
Few figures in late antiquity embody the complexity and tragic grandeur of Rome’s decline as vividly as Flavius Stilicho, the Roman genera...