1998 [threshold] by 23trees

Behold the threshold,
it's odd dark hues,
with neon bright highlights,
it hums the deep truth,
it sends a signal, signal, signal...

The doors of perception,
a one way mirror,
one way pass.

You can stand in front
stuck paralysed in awe,
or tremble in deep dread.

But should you come through
don't expect to come back.
Not the self you've been.
It'll break you or make you,
and little will stay the same.

Just your skin and bones,
your eyes will shine the blackness,
of understanding everything
yet losing threads of sanity.

Some will run scared.
Some will stay behind.
Some will follow through.
Some will look without words.

And step into it themselves,
the agreement will then emerge,
the sense of unity, and unit,

Synaesthesia,
the smell of death.
Synaesthesia,
the taste of life.
Synaesthesia is death.
Synaesthesia is birth.

Taste the neon shine of absolute black,
see the echoes of the bottomless void,
hear the scent of crystalline hymn,

If you fall through the taste,
if you smell the colours,
you will definitely die,
you will absolutely live.

Just touch the neon hum,
and see the weave of bones,
bones we found beneath.

Hi. Welcome to my music journal. It’s a very diverse universe of music, made over nearly 25 years of meddling with computer composition. Try—or don’t—to enjoy it (or not). Chronology is conceptually important, but not expressed accurately at all. Go figure, or don’t. ;)

23trees