Calisto's Attic: The Two Faces Of Calisto

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

The Two Faces Of Calisto

The devil's agents may be of flesh and blood, may they not? See - one side of my face is gentle and kind, incapable of anything but love of my fellow man. The other side, the other profile, is cruel and predatory and evil, incapable of anything but lusts and dark passions. It all depends on which side faces the moon at the ebb of the tide.

1 comment:

Quoren said...: Greetings Calisto, you dark changling...

Thank you for visiting me earlier today in my previous incarnation as Quont. My soul has had to follow a new path of spiritual evolution and so has moved on from Mernac. I am now Quoren of Taqqara. I do hope that you will come and visit me in my new home, especially when darkness descends upon me and I too am driven by predatory needs of lust and control over others.

Q; May 7, 2008 at 9:58 a.m.

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Quotes Of The First

No person was ever honored for what he received. Honor has been the reward for what he gave.
... and then the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
Some people must go to extremes to get the world in balance for themselves. Some can't bear bright lights, so wherever they go they search for the dark; they turn the lights down, anything to sustain some level of comfort.
A casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything.
Those who hear not the music think the dancers mad. We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.
See - one side of my face is gentle and kind, incapable of anything but love of my fellow man. The other side, the other profile, is cruel and predatory and evil, incapable of anything but lusts and dark passions. It all depends on which side faces the moon at the ebb of the tide.
Vanquished in life, his death, By beauty amends: The passing of his breath Won his defeated ends...
Alone he rides, alone, The dark and fatal king: Dark night is all his own, That strange and solemn thing.....
Because of thee, the land of dreams, Becomes a gathering of place of fears: Until tormented slumber seems One vehemence of useless tears...
Because of thee, not thought, no thing, Abides for me undersecrate: Dark Angel, ever on the wing, Who never reachest me too late...
Dark Angel, with thine aching lust, To rid the world of penitence: Malicious Angel, who dost-My soul such subtile violence...
The devil's agents may be of flesh and blood, may they not?