I was thrust into the parliament of dreams, enduring a mind war. I cried out the war prayer, and the sky full of stars shone on me, casting light on the deathwalker approaching me. It had nothing to fear from believers and survivors, but would kill weaker individuals by any means necessary. The world shifted and I saw signs and portents. I ducked to avoid a TKO, and stumbled upon the grail. Eyes stared at me, portals to rich legacies behind the dead orbs. Suddenly, a voice in the wilderness cried out and I saw Babylon squared. There, I found the elusive prize, the quality of mercy, entombed in a chrysalis. At several points of departures, I came upon some revelations. The geometry of shadows, cast by a distant star in the long dark, revealed a spider in the web. I saw soul mates taking a race through dark places, running from the coming of shadows. GROPOS, all alone in the night, had to perform acts of sacrifice to save them. I watched the spider and the GROPOS; hunter, prey. “There all honor lies,” I said to myself. A portentous voice boomed, “And now for a word in the shadow of Z’ha’dum.” I saw knives gleaming unsheathed, to force confessions and lamentations, causing divided loyalties in the long twilight struggle. I reminded myself that first comes the inquisitor, then the fall of the night. This led to matters of honor and convictions. I found myself living a day in the strife, which had me passing through Gethsemane, listening to voices of authority, turning dust to dust. The deep voices intoned, “Exogenesis.” Now I knew I would not get any more messages from Earth, that I had passed the point of no return. My severed dreams guided me through ceremonies of light and dark, thus sic transit vir. Suddenly, a late delivery from Avalon brought a ship of tears, causing interludes and examinations before entering a war without end. I went on a walkabout, finding that Grey 17 was missing. Scared, I hid behind a rock, and the rock cried out, “No hiding place!” Now exposed, I saw shadow dancing on Z’ha’dum. Long afterwards, during the hour of the wolf, I ask myself, “Whatever happened to Mr. Garibaldi?” Then I heard the summoning and found myself falling towards apotheosis, hurtling through the long night into the fire. Epiphanies and the illusion of truth appeared to me as atonement for racing Mars and breaking lines of communications, which created conflicts of interest. This led to rumors, bargains and lies during moments of transition where there was no surrender, no retreat. The exercise of vital powers in the face of the enemy during intersections in real time, between the darkness and the light, gave way to endgame; where a rising star supervised the deconstruction of falling stars. It was then when I learned there will be no compromises in the very long night of Londo Mollari, who is the paragon of animals, presiding with a view from the gallery. There will be no learning curve for strange relations harboring secrets of the soul, for in the kingdom of the blind, G’Kar is king. I found myself watching a tragedy of telepaths, and during that, I saw the phoenix rising on the day of the dead. While sitting on the ragged edge, I remembered, “The corps is mother, the corps is father” during my mediations on the abyss, with the darkness ascending. With that being said, and all my dreams torn asunder by movement of fire and shadow portending the fall of Centauri Prime, I entered the wheel of fire. Objects in motion buffeted me. I exerted my will, making the objects at rest. Exhausted, I laid down and rested, sleeping in light. I knew I would need my rest, for the crusade would begin soon. |