a novel in three acts by A.A.Ron Sheppard
In the beginning, the altar remains barren for a significant amount of time, waiting for its audience, for it ultimately exists without time itself. Primarily, it so happens today, lights come up upon a blanket of void until lifelessness breaks through shadow – a separation of depth in space set for illusions. Infinity exposes itself as a drab wall upon which all these shadows of pigs and ravens appear to conjure humanity upon which Zarathustra’s tongue lay useless. Minds block hearts. Math and pattern seek to decapitate chaos, its head a mere prosthetic thing conjured into blood of beatings. Humanity personifies disaster to outdo nature and claim possession of the stage itself. Slaughter does away with ethical formalities on Sundays. Armies of bodies enter the stage to terminate time set by other emerging armies. Mourning turns the stage black once again. This moment of emptiness retains memory and melancholy of and for the past. Act 2 prescribes hope. Act 3: mystical energy is conjured so that pigs and foul mate within the lust of new found knowledge. Beyond the stage of the viewer is a universe that betrays laws set by man. It sends foreign rocks of another’s chemistry bounding through nothingness, crawling upon the ceiling of the ship’s belly with mental anguish. Something hermaphroditic laughs at the joke. All sit quiet wondering if another moment exists in dream.
-excerpt from BOOTLESS GRIPS