Komm, Jesu, Komm

Come, Jesus, come, my soul is weary;
My strength doth dwindle day by day.
Give me thy rest, for I am bleary;
Carry me through the bitter way.
Come, and for thee I’ll trade my strife:
Thou art the way, the truth, the life.

Let me but feel thy hand enclosing
And bid the world a last farewell;
Though life be but a mist in morning,
Yet shall my spirit ever dwell
Where naught but peace can e’er be rife—
With thee, the way, the truth, the life.

—Translated from Paul Thymich (excerpt). To Neumark.

Foolishness

A fool is what they brand me, for the love
I bear toward the loving Lord above;
They say I make him up my fears to ease,
But he has made me fear him, by his grace.

They call my Lord a crutch that I conceive
To rid me of the guiltiness I weave,
But I’ve been maimed by sin, and I would bet
A broken leg needs all that it can get.

If fools rush in where angels fear to tread,
Then I’m a fool, I’ll gladly have it said:
Angel nor demon never knew the grace
That with my Lord in heav’n secured a place.

—12/14/15. On 1 Cor 1:18-25.

(This was a vocabulary exercise for English composition. I may have enjoyed myself a bit.)

Nobody knows what menacing monsters lurk in the catacombs, but the rumormongers ply their trade ceaselessly, hoping to elicit a modicum of profit from it somehow. They say there is a panoply of riches hidden in a long-forgotten emperor's tomb. They have heard (from whom?) that the monstrosities with which the deeps are rife, are simply some paltry number of rats and maggots. They decry and deny the existence of the elusive flesh-eating ogres ubiquitous throughout the subterranean passages.

All who listen are fervently hidebound, of course. Who would so promiscuously propagate stories of these demons unless they had seen them with their own eyes? These hawkers of hope spawn a seed of doubt, however, and this chance of success, inchoate, draws them down, down, down, ineluctably, to the halls of the dead—most often to perpetuate their numbers.

Of such stock comes the quintessential treasure hunter, Iowa Smith. Propelled by desire, predisposed to disbelieve in devils, passive under greatest duress, will he be able to find the fabled Treasure of Caligula?

Daylight's End

The Solari shield-maiden pauses at the entrance to the cave. The sun is starting to go down and the evening chill is approaching. The cave is colder still. Should she light a fire and make camp for the night?

Her orders are clear. "Find the heretic. Protect the faith." She enters the cave. Its darkness soon envelops her, and she calls upon the sun for a little light. Her shield begins to glow. She sees that the cold walls are painted with crescents and blasphemies. She goes deeper.

Further in, she begins to hear a high, clear voice, chanting in worship:

The Song of Oryx

When I saw Oryx I was overcome with many thoughts
    I fled to a very High place
    Which was very Deep

And I said:

Aurash, Auryx, Oryx!

I don't know that much Spanish yet

              OVERCONFIDENT SPANISH
              STUDENT (subtitled)
    ¡Nosotros somos tontos! (We are
    stupid!)
       (The students eye him suspiciously.)
    ¡Pero! ¡Nuestro cerveza es musculosa!
    (But! Our beer is muscular!)
       (The class cheers.)
    ¡Nuestros madres son guapos! (Our
    mothers are handsome like men!)
       (The class cheers louder.)
    ¡Y nuestros corazones son trabajadores!
    (And our hearts are hard-working!)

The class's cheer becomes a ROAR. They carry the overconfident student ON THEIR SHOULDERS and SURGE OUT OF THE CLASSROOM.

PROJECT: Lucian

This was an entry into a fan-fic micro-competition for League of Legends. I just figured I'd cross-post it here because I'll never save the Boards permalink like I can this post. If you'd like more information, I'd recommend reading Lucian's background and watching the PROJECT: Overdrive video. (Lucian is a character in the game, while PROJECT is a line of skins for several of the characters.)

—

They know their foe—Battlecorp's latest monster, codename WARDEN. It doesn't seem a great threat; in fact, it looks mostly harmless. In truth it is a shell housing an anti-cybersecurity and hacking AI, armed only with ad-hoc trans-physical jacking ports and a datapad. It has hit other PROJECT installations, but agents had severed communications before it could infiltrate the main system. Now it comes for the system directly.

Late-Night Ramblings from Town

We exit the theater. The last usher chats with the person cleaning up the concessions space. The usher is waiting for one more theater to drop before he can go home. I pause to try and say goodbye, but the two are preoccupied. I do not interrupt them.

Driving Home from Work

Eleven o’clock in the dead of the night:
There’s many a short-order beacon in sight,
But scarcely a headlight, like LA film noir,
Has pierced the tranquility here in my car.
Daft Punk sets the tempo I feel as I ride;
Egg-bacon taquito sits close at my side—
O paramour porcine! O egg in my face!
I’ve truly Got Lucky when thee I embrace!
The joy that envelops my self, and I it,
The unpeopled city which darkness has lit
In contrast combine to some new form of bliss:
The joy of the night-owl trav’ller is this.

Sacrilege

To The Entertainer, Billy Joel

There's a yellow rose in Texas
That I am going to see;
No other soldier knows her
No soldier, only me.
She cried so when I left her
It like to broke my heart,